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(CLASS OF 1&S2} 


























Mt Lord, 

The patronage with which you have been pleased to 
honour the productions of a minstrel who appreciated 
Melody as the soul of Music, and whose metrical attempts 
to portray the rough-hewn natural characters, and stimu- 
late the gallant exertions, of a class to whom their Country 
is so infinitely indebted, entitles your Lordship, and the 
patriotic Board who have added their distinguished sanction 
of the following Selection, to the thanks of all lovers of 
Old English Ballads, who retain what Shakspe are calls 
a wMcIc of predilection for home-brewed excellence ; and, 
above all, to the heartfelt, proudy and filial sense of 
obligation conferred on. 

My Lord, 

Your Lordship's 
Most humble and 
Gratefully obedient servant, 

Thomas Dibdin. 


Jantuury 1, ISIU 
















H. R. H. THB DuKS OP Cambridob 

The Right Hon. the Lord Chancellor ... 

His Grace the Duke op Bucclbuch 

His Grace the Duke op Northumberland 

His Grace the Duke op Sutherland 

His Grace the Duke op Leinster 

The Most Noble the Marquis op Lansdo i^nr 

The Most Noble the Marquis op Nortp aMPTOI* 

The Most Noble the Marquis op Titchiuld . 

The Most Noble the March ion gsi; of (kmrna ... 

The Most Noble the Marcbione^^s or liOifBOiniBRKT 

The Right Hon. the Earl op Aberdeen ^. «, 

The Right Hon. the Earl op Carlisle ... 

The Right Hon. the Earl op Dartmouth 

The Right Hon. thk Earl op Leicester 

The Right Hon. the Earl op Lincoln ... 

The Right Hon. the Earl op Pembroke ... 

The Right Hon. the Earl op Ripon 

The Right Hon. the Earl op Beybrlt ... 

The Right Hon. the Earl op Dalhousib 

The Right Hon. the Earl op St. Germains 

The Right Hon. the Earl op Wilton 

The Right Hon. the Earl op Malmsburt 

The Right Hon. THE Earl Gret 

The Right Hon. the Dowager Countess op Charlb 

VILLE ... ... ,.a ... ... 

The Right Hon. Viscount Morpbth 
The Right Hon. Viscount Palmerston ... 
Thb Right Hon. Viscount Castlerbagh... 
The Right Hon. Lord Btiougram and Vaux 
The Right Hon. Lord Francis L, Egeatoi^ 
The Right Hon. Lord John Russell 

The Right Hon. Lord Leigh 

The Right Hon. Admiral Sir R. Stoppord 
The Right Hon. Admiral Sir G. Cockburn 
The Right Hon. Admiral Sir G. Seymour 
The Right Hon. H. Labouchbre ... 

The Hon. Mrs. Martin 

Sir Felix Booth, Bart 

Sir Charles Forbes, Bart 

Major General Sir H. Watsov ... 





Sib W. C. Ross, R.A 1 

Thb Lord Chancvllor's Sscretart 1 

Mr. Axderman Humphrbt, M.P 1 

Dr. Outram 1 

Thomas Thisti.ewaioht, Eso. 3 

W. C. Ross, Esa 1 

James Fry, Esq 1 

W. C. Macready, Ebq 2 

Elder Brethren op Trinity Housb 50 

Miss Burdett Coutts .. ..* „. l 

Mrs. Nightingale „ ^. l 

Mrs. Oakley ,. ... 1 

The Right Hon. the Lords Commissioners of thb 

Admiralty 500 


Abbot, J., Esq., 2 copies. 
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Appleton, G. E^sq. 
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Ducie, Rt. Hon. Lord, 20 copies, 

Dundas, Hon. J., M.P., 4 copies. 



Edrington,^ J. C, Esq. 

Elder Brethren of Trinity Home, 

100 eopiea. 
EUis, Right Hon. H. 
Enderby, C, Esq., 20 eoptet. 
ETuas, W. C. Esq. 
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Fane, Admiral, 4 copies, 

hurley, C, Esq., 2 copies, 

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Forster, R. T , Esq. 

Fox, C, Esq. 

*' Friends in the New Zealand 

Board" (by J. Somes, Esq.) 

100 copies. 
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Gordon, Right Hon. Lord Fred. 

4 copies, 
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4 copieSy 
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Esq.), 4 copies. 
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Nash, W., Esq. 

Neeld, Joseph, M.P. 4 coptet* 

Neild^ — , Esq., 1 co]^\e8. 

North, Mfi,, East Actoa, 

0?1e, Admiral Sir C„ 10 eopieM. 

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Oatrara, Dn, F*R.S., ate., Hano- 

ver-aqnare^ 4 vQpi^s* 
Outram^ Mrs,, 2 copies. 

OnVTJt MiBNj EllSt Ac!tOD> 

Pkny, John, Esq* 

Peake, C, Esq. 
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Frudhoe, Right Hon. Lord, R.N. 
Parday, Mr, Z, T„ Holbora. 
Piirdnf, Ur. C. E. 
Porday-i Mr-, SL Paul'i Cbtirch-^ 

Eadstock, Eight Hon. Lord^ E.K. 

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Robertson, A., Esq, 

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Ross, W<, Esq^, aen. 

Ross, W. C, Esq., A.R.A, 

RovedinOj Sigijor Tomaso. 

Eoundin^^ T.^ Esq. 

Saltoaii, Rt. Hon. Lord, 4 cttpiew, 
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GroBven or- square* 
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Smart, Sir Geofge. 

Smith, G.T. Esq.^ Lynn,^ ctipies* 

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Somerset, His Grace the DnVe ci^ 

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off 5 copieK* 
Somes, Josffph, Esq,, 100 cifpUi» 
Stef>hen80ti, J. H.^ Esq,, 4 cttpiea. 
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Stodart, W., Esq, 
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Sykea, Admiral, B eopia, 
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Taylor, Admiral, GreeRwich, 
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Weeks, H., Esq*, 2 coping. 

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Wilkinsoti Rev, T. 

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Wilson, Effingham* Esq, 

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Woolmore, Mrs. 

Tarbornn^hj R%ht Hon* 
50 cppi€S, 

Zfom, T* B., Esq., 2 eapiti 


fo BMibtaCe the finding of any Song wanted, the first ]ine M well u the title d 
eadi subgect is alphabetically giren. 


A pla^e of those musty old InbbeiB 7 

And did you not hear of a jolly young iratennan 13 

At Sea 15 

A sailor^a love is void of art 20 

A Hero's True Glory 21 

A sailor and an honest heart 22 

A sailofs life 's a life of woe ..I 82 

A Drop of the Creature 42 

Adieu, adieu, my only life 44 

Adieu, my gallant sailor 63 

All Girls 93 

A Dose for the Don 107 

Again the willing trump of Fame ' 113 

A Salt Eel for Mynheer 114 

All's one to Jack 117 

Anna, Anne, Nan, Nance, or Nancy 133 

A voyage at sea and all it's strife 140 

A Wapping I landed 142 

A watchman I am, and I knows all the rounds 184 

As pensive one night in my garret I sate 207 

Another Cup, and then 210 

A Little!... 211 



Blow high, blow low 8 

Brother soldiers, why cast down 1 18 

Bonny Kate 85 

Ben Backstay loved the gentle Anna 87 

Bold Jack the sailor here I come 48 

Buxom Nan 50 

BillBobstay 57 

Bleak was the mom when William left his Nancy 65 

Britons United 119 

Brother Jack 136 

Ben Block 167 

Beauty's Banner ... 171 

Bachelors' Hall 186 

Charity 58 

Come, never seem to mind it 68 

Come, all hands ahoy to the anchor ... 70 

Constancy 72 

Comely Ned 97 

Change for a Guinea 121 

Come on, jolly lads, to the drumhead repair ... 163 

Captain Wattle and Miss Boe 197 

Country Club 198 

Come, all jolly topers 216 

Come, all ye gemmen volunteers 217 

I^ck Dock, a tar at Greenwich moored 83 

Delight of the Brave 85 

Dearly as the stream 107 

Duncan and Victory 118 

Dick Hopeful 169 

Did you ever hear of Captain Wattle? 197 

Each Bullet has its Commission 19 

Every inch a Sailor 78 

Escaped with life in tatters 105 

Each his own Pilot ... ^ ,^ «.. ... ... 14f 



Sroy Alan's Friend 216 

Farewell and Return 4 

Foretop Morality 51 

Father and Mother and Suke 188 

Fattier and I 21Jt 

Gk> patter to lubbers and swabgy do ye see 1 

Grog and Girls 22 

Grieving's a Folly 64 

Giye ear to me, boUi high and low 97 

Here a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Bowling 41 

Happy Jeny 4T 

Honesty in Tatters 67 

Histoiyofthe War 155 

Haik 1 with what glee yon meny clown 178 

Humanity's Cot 188 

If, my hearty, you'd not like a lubber appear 10 

I sail'd in the good ship the Kitty 12 

If tars of their money are lavish 15 

I was, d'ye see, a Waterman 28 

I sail'd from the Downs in the Nancy 89 

I be one of they sailors who think 'tis no lie 45 

I was the pride of all the Thames ... 47 

If bold and brave, thou canst not bear 52 

I've sail'd round the world 61 

If ever a sailor was fond of g:ood sport 76 

If lubberly landsmen, to gratitude strangers *«. 91 

I've heard, cried out one, that you tars tack and tack «. 95 

I've sail'd the salt seas pretty much 108 

I went to sea all so fearlessly 115 

I say, my heart, why here's your works 128 

If the good old maxim's true , 13d 

I was saying to Jack, as we talk'd t'other day .. 146 

In either eye a lingering tear 149 



I that once was a ploughman 161 

I'm Jolly Dick the lamplighter 214 

Jack Ratlin 26 

Jack in his Element 48 

Jack dances and sings, and is always content 56 

Jack's Gratitude 61 

Jack at the Windlass 70 

Jack's PideUty 76 

Jack's claim to Poll 100 

Jack Binnacle met with an old shipmate 121 

Jack at Greenwich 184 

Jack at the Opera 142 

Jack come home 147 

Jacky and the Cow 201 

Jervis for oyer 108 

Joltering Giles 178 

John Bull for pastime took a prance 194 

Kickaraboo ! 172 

Life's troubled Sea 18 

LoTcly Polly 20 

Little Ben 88 

LoTclyNan 82 

Let's live till we die 86 

Let swabs with their wows 181 

Letter N 145 

Love me evermore 149 

Like Etna's dread volcano 221 

Lectured by pa' and ma' o'emight 208 

My Poll and my Partner Joe 28 

Moorings 95 

Mayhap you have heard 101 

MegofWapping 108 

Magnanimity ..• ... ••• ••• ••• ••• ... 126 



If J love's a yessel trim and gay 188 

Mad Peg 166 

Margate Hoy ... > 191 

Man, poor forked animal; why art thou vain 1 208 

aiy, marry John 206 

at Mudge, the sexton of our town 210 

other were dead, and sister were married 218 

name, d'ye see, 's Tom Tough, I've seen a little sarvice ... 219 

Nothing like Grog 7 

Ko more of winds and wares the sport 98 

Kancy dear ... ... ... ... ••• ••• ... 98 

Kelson and Wanen 128 

^ancy *«. ... ... ••• ••• ••• ••• «•« xAt 

Kature and Nancy 181 

Now that war ... ••. ••• ... ••• ..• ... 144 

K. (Letter) ... •• ••• ••• ... ••• ... 146 

Nongtongpaw .. ... ••• ••• ••• ••. ... 194 

Now we're all met here together 198 

Of all sensations pity brings 28 

Of us tars 'tis reported again and again 102 

Of all the lives I ever lived 128 

One! 168 

the camp's delightful rigs ! 166 

One neger say one ting, you no take offence 172 

Of horns and of echoes 183 

Of all Heaven gave to comfort man 190 

Old Mary, her poor husband dead 206 

One Negro, wi' my banjer 218 

Poor Jack t 1 

Poor Tom! 8 

Poor Peggy lov*d a soldier lad ... 60 

Poor Shipwreck'd Tar 106 

Resplendent gleam'd the ample moon .. 88 



Rational Yanity •• .•• 203 

Soimding the Bowl 10 

SmiliDg Grog is the.sailor's best hope ... ... 11 

Saturday Night 29 

Sweethearts and Wives 84 

Swizzy ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 52 

Soldier Dick 68 

Spanking Jack was bo comely 64 

Sweet is the ship that under sail 82 

Say» soldier, which of glory's charms 85 

Sailor's Journal 89 

See the course thronged with gazers 96 

See the shore lined with gazers 180 

Since fate of sailors hourly varies 187 

Since love is the hero's best dutgr 171 

Sure en't I the drummerl 175 

Says my father, says he, one day to I 188 

Standing one summer's day on the Tower Slip 191 

fniough hard the valiant soldier*8 life 4 

fnien farewell my trim-built wheny 8 

The bu^ Crew 9 

The signal to engage shall be 10 

The Sailor*B Sheet Anchor 11 

The Good Ship the Kitty 12 

The Jolly Toung Waterman 18 

The Heart of a Tar ^ 16 

The ForecasUe-man 17 

This life is like a troubled sea 18 

The Sailor 25 

The girl who fain would choose a mate , 25 

The boatswain calls, the wind is fSur 27 

The Soldier's Grave 28 

"fHs said we vent'rous die-hards 29 

The Greenwich Pensioner 81 

Twas in the good ship Bover -. • 81 



Hie Flowing Can 82 

TwasSatorday night, the twinkling stars 84 

The wind was hash'd^ the fleecy wave 85 

The Tar for All Weathers , 89 

Tom Bowling 41 

To^aak would you come for to go 42 

The Soldier's Adieu ... 44 

The Anchor apeak 45 

The wind was hush'd, the stonn was oyer 50 

Two real tars whom duty caU'd 51 

The Girl ashore 54 

The tar 's a jolly tar that can hand, reef, and steer 54 

True English Sailor 56 

Tight lads have I sail'd with 57 

Tack and Tack 63 

This liere's what I does 07 

The blind Sailor 68 

The surge hoarsely murm'ring ... .. 72 

The wind blew hard, the sea ran high 78 

The Token 74 

The breeze was fresh, the ship in stays 74 

The Soldier's Funeral 77 

The martial pomp 77 

Tack and Half Tack 78 

l^e Yarmouth roads are right ahead 78 

Tom Tackle was poor 80 

The Veterans 88 

Twas one day at Wappiug 86 

Tom Tmelove's Knell 88 

Twas post meridian half-past four ..« 89 

The High-Mettled Racer 96 

The Lads of the Village 101 

The Sailor's Maxim 191 

Twas landlady Meg that made such rare flip 108 

The Nancy Ill 

Thcn{;h mountains high ihe billows roll 117 

The French aie all coming «%« VV^ 


Tmo Conrage 


The Pride of tlie Ocean ., 

The Canary Bird 

The TrmnpeU Sound 

Though forward Blandfi the soldier's name 

The Manes of the Brave 

Three Cheers 

"Twas all how and ahout and concerning the war 

The Standing Toast 

The moon on the ocean 

The Loud Tattoo 

This, this, my kd 

True Glory 

The Carfindo 

The Drumhead 

The gloomy night 8talk*d slow away 

The Camp 

The Lover's Prohation 

'Tis said that love, the more *tis tried 

The Irish Drummer 

The Ladies 

There was a lady, a lady, a pretty lady 

^le Waggoner ... ... ... ••• ••• 

The Fair 

The Watchman 

To Bachelors' Hall we good fellows invite 

The Flowing Bowl 

The Margate Hoy 

The Labourer's Welcome Home 

The ploughman whistles o'er the furrow 

The Coootiy Club 

There were Farmer Thrasher, and he had a cow 

The Lady's Diary 

The Last ShUling 

The Lamplighter 

Vlie Negro and his Baiya 


i Tom Tough 219 

The Anchorsmiths 221 

Up from a loblolly boy none was bo 'cate 145 

Up the Mediterranin ... 158 

Voyage of Life 140 

While np the shrouds the Bailor goes 6 

When last from the Straits 14 

What aigafies pride and ambition 18 

When last in the Dreadful 21 

Why, don't you know me by my scars? 58 

Why, good people all, at what do you piyl 58 

Who cares? 91 

Why should the sailor take a wife 1 98 

Wouldst know, my lad, why every tar 100 

While the lads of the village 101 

Why, Jack, my fine fellow, here's glorious news 114 

Well it's no worse 115 

Why, what's that to you, if my eyes I'm a wiping? 125 

When once the din of war's begun 126 

We tars are all for fun and glee 134 

When to weigh the boatswain's calling 151 

Would you hear a sad story of woe 157 

Whatisgloiy,whatis&me1 168 

Would you see the world in little 180 

Wid my Lor Anglois I come over un valet 211 

Wlien I comes to town with a load of hay 178 

Ye free-bom sons ! 5 

Yet Uiough I've no fortune to offer 16 

Your finnikin sirs may in finery appear 17 

Yo, heave, hoi 27 

You ask how it comes that I sing about Nancy 127 



Songs, &c. By T. Dibdin. 


British sailors have a knack 

Come, lads, here's good luck to the purser 

Daddy Neptune one day to Freedom did say ... 
Deserted by the waning moon 

Gentlefolks, in my time IVe made many a rhyme 

Home and Victoiy 

In the midst of the sea, like a tough man-of-war 

King William's Memorial 


Love and Gloiy 

Near Eew one mom 

Naval Promotion 

life is an ocean 

On Charles Dibdin's Monument 

One sigh for the Bard 

Peter PuUhaul's Medley 

Poll of Wapping Stairs 



Say, gallant soldier, do I see .» 226 

Shades of Britannia^s sons, who sleep 227 

Stop, shipmate, stop, he can't be dead 232 

Sir Sidney Smith 242 

Sam Splicem 247 

The Heart of a True British Sailor 25fd 

The Death of Wolfe 227 

The snug little Island 228 

The Land in the Ocean 230 

The Heart of a Sailor ... 231 

'Tisn't the jacket or trousers blue 231 

The Origin of Kaval Artillery 234 

The Death of Abercrombie 236 

Twas on the spot in ancient lore oft named 236 

The Cabin Boy 238 

The sea was rough 238 

The cabin boy's over the sea 243 

Tobacco, Grog, and Flip 244 

The Wanderer always at Home 239 

The Bard of Poor Jack 245 

The Colour of the Ocean • 250 

The laaa for a sailor is lively and free ... 251 

The lofty hall with trophies proud 251 

Yictoria '. 255 

Would you know the ingredients that make up a tar 223 

When Vulcan forged the bolts of Jove ... .. .. ... 234 

Whate'er the pleasures known on shore 244 

WhoTl serve the Queen 1 248 

When the world first began, and some folks say before ... 250 

Waterloo 251 

When pyramids, form'd by the fiat of pow'r 263 

Wlien Britons on the foaming main 255 

Your London girls, with all their airs 237 

Toung Heniy was as brave a youth „ *I^ 



By C. Dibdin, Jun, 


All in his Gloiy 257 

A Tar's Daly ^ 2il5 

BeD Bowsprit of Wapping 258 

Bom at sea, and my cradle a fHgate 265 

Ben the Boatswain 265 

Ben Backstay was our boatswain 265 

Qood Ship Britannia 263 

I unshipp'd from aboard the Sky Socket 261 

Tm a true honest-hearted gay fellow 273 

Jack Junk was a tar who could tether his tack 257 

Jack Oonnel, an odd fish 271 

Let 'em come 266 

Lieutenant Yeo 274 

Modes of Invasion 264 

NavaJ Worthies 269 

Old England's a ship of the line .. 263 

OffCi^FinisteiTe 274 

Poll of Hordeydown 270 

Pio Aria et Fods ... .^ 273 



Beady for Action 

Sailoi^s Log Ashore 

Sods of Albion, sound to arms ... 

The Albion is a noble ship 

The foe, on one string always strumming 
Tom Tack was the shipmate for duty ... 
The Obstinate Dog 

When a sailor goes to sea 

Wer*e told that our foes to invade us intend 

Your grave politicians may kick up a rout 
Ye landsmen and ye seamen 








• a. 








• a. 












• .. 








All in the Downs 276 

Aloft the sailor looks aroand 808 

A ship 1 a ship I a gallant ship 1 825 

Black-Eyed Susan 276 

Blow, Boreas, Blow 297 

Britain's best Bulwarks 818 

Bright moon, fisdr moon, the mariner's Mend 816 

Blood ! what a time for a seaman to skulk 822 

Cease, rude Boreas ... 278 

Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer 290 

Come, all ye jolly sailors bold 291 

Come, come, my jolly lads, the wind's abaft 298 

Come, bustle, bustle, drink about 306 

Come, let's drink a health to Qeoige our king 306 

Prom Minden's Plains of gloiy 281 

From aloft the sailor looks around 808 

Hearts of Oak 290 

How little do the landsmen know 300 

Hark! the Boatswain's Whistle 302 

How happy are we now 307 

How bless'd are we seamen .. .- 808 

Hurrah for the Sea 818 

In May fifteen hundred and eighty and eight 283 

T ging the British Seaman's praise 284 



Litde do the Landsmen know 800 

Life is chequer'd — ^toil and pleasure 802 

Loose eVxy Sail to the Breeze 804 

Loud roafd the dreadfdl thunder 821 

Minden's Plains of Gloiy 281 

l£ay our Kavy for ever Old England protect . . ., «^ 812 

Neptune's Besignation 288 

Now away, my brave boys ... 801 

Old England's a Lion 275 

Our country is our ship d'ye see 287 

Old England's Flag for ever 210 

Oor sea-borne chimes eight bells have toll'd 819 

Our ship had struck soundings 820 

Our Country 824 

EoBsell's Triumph 281 

Bule Britannia 327 


Smce our foes to invade us have long been preparing ... 

Sling the flowing Bowl 298 

Stand to your Guns, my hearts of oak 318 

The Land, Boys, we live in J 276 

The Storm 278 

Thursday in the mom, the nineteenth of May . . ... 281 

The Spanish Armada 283 

Then, 01 protect the hardy Tar 284 

The wat'ry god, great Neptune, lay 288 

TheArethusa 291 

The topsails shiver in the wind 294 

The hardy sailor braves the ocean 295 

The wand'ring sailor ploughs the main 296 

The Mid-watch 296 

The Bold Salamander %^^ 



The records of oar fiitherB* deeds 810 

The Launch 811 

Though hurricanes rattle 812 

The Sailor's Bequest 816 

The fight was o'er 816 

The Mariner's Invocation 816 

The Heart knows only One 817 

The landsmen tell you those who roam 817 

The Lighthouse ,. 819 

The Sailor's Funeral 820 

The Bay of Biscay 821 

The Old Commodore 822 

What should Sailors do on Shore? 202 

When 'tis night, and the mid-watch is come 299 

When in war on the ocean 808 

Wapping Old Stairs 809 

When Britain on her sea-girt shore 813 

When Britain first at Heaven's command 827 

With ardent pride Britannia's sons attend 811 

Te Gentlemen of England 298 

Tour Molly has never been &lse 809 

Tour poelfi may sing of the pleasures of home.. 818 




Charles Dibdin was bom at a village called 
Dibden^ near Southampton^ in the year 17^^ 5; and^ 
having very early lost his father, was removed to 
Winchester ; where, from his previous love for, and 
proficiency in, Music, when quite a boy, he was 
placed under the organist of the cathedral, and 
officiated in the choir till he was old enough to 
become a candidate for the situation of organist 
himself. His intuitive comprehension of the theory 
as regarding the '* composition and accordance of 
sweet sounds** was so aided by a most excellent 
ear, that at the age of fifteen he would return from 
an opera or a concert, and, from memory, draw out 
and fill a correct score of any overture, song, cho- 
rus, or concerted piece that had happened to strike 
his fancy. Friends advised him to try the metro- 
polis as a more expanded field for his improving 
talent ; and he went to London witli iVve m\i»x>GL^Ti 



of teaching singing and the harpsichord^ when dl 
cumstances threw him in the way of Mr* GarricK 
Mr* Bickers taff J and the theatres, Mr* Bickerstaff 
was so pleased with his dawning genius as a mnsical 
artist, thatj after employing him to compose the 
music of great part of the opera of the ^VMaid of 
the Mill/^ he prevailed on him to appear in it? 
and sing his own compositions in the character of 
Ralph, the Miller^s Son^ in which he most con 
pletely established himself as a burletta perform^ 
of the first rank. Tlae amazing success of his Most^ 
id his MuNGO in the *^ Padlock/' secured himj 
long engagement at Dmry Lane ; and after havin" 
furnished music for *' Love in a Village," " Lior 
and Clarissa/* '^ Love in the City^" and other piec 
written by Mr, Bickerstaff, he commenced author 
as well as composer on his own account, and pro- 
duced the words and music of ''The Waterman^ 
'^The Quaker," "The Deserter," '^The Weddiij 
Ring" and numerous other successful pieces at 
various theatres, as **The Shepherd's Artifice/^ '^Da- 
iuon and Phillida,** " Rose and Colin,*^ '^Annette 
and Lubin/* ^- The Recruiting Serjeant," *' Po 
Vulcan," "The Islanders," '"^The Touchstone,^ 
*'The Mirror, or Harlequin Everywhere,*' "The 
Mischance,'' *^The Ladle," "The Cobbler," **Thfi 
Metamorphoses,** ** The Gipsies," ^' Wives Re- 
venged," *^ Chelsea Pensioner," *' Shepherdess ot 


:he Alps/^ *^ Jupiter and Alcmena/^ ^^None so 
Blind as those that will not See/' ^^ Liberty Hall/^ 
'^Harvest Home/^ &c., &c., &c., and the much-ad- 
oQiired Songs, Dances, Serenades, and Processional 
Airs in the ^^ Stratford Jubilee,^' in honour of Shak- 
apeare, the words of which were written by Mr. 
Garrick. His last dramatic efforts wei*e *^ A Diver- 
tissement^' at Covent Garden, for the introduction 
of his own most popular songs^ and a ballad farce 
at Drury Lane, called '^Broken Gold/' He also 
wrote two novels, "The Younger Brother,'' and 
"Hannah He wit, or the Female Crusoe;" his own 
"Professional Life," "Musical Tour," "History of 
the Stage" (in 5 vols.), &c., &c. 

In the year 1788> tired of dramatic contingencies, 
and feeling (as Charles Mathews did after him] 
that he possessed resources in his own mind to 
entertain an audience in a theatre of his own, he 
singly and individually wrote, composed, recited, 
sang, and accompanied, a medley monodrame, at 
Fisher's auction-rooms in King Street, Covent Gar- 
den, under the title of " The Whim of the Moment, 
or Nature in Little;" in which Entertainment the 
song of "Poor Jack" was alone sufficiently attractive 
to insure him a profitable season of some weeks: 
and this was the commencement of a series of 
similar fashionable and profitable exhibitions of 
unaided genius, which were the auiwiaV AsJi^\. ^^"^ 

the town for many years, at the before-mentioned 

room% at the Lyceum^ at Scott and Idlers premises 
in tbe Strand, and at his own theatre, which he 
buiJt and opened as the Sans Soucij in Leicester 
Placej Leicester Square 5 and he^ latterlyj gave some 
public Musical SoirieSf assisted by his pupils^ in 
Beaufort Buildings. 

His retirement on a pension of ^200 a-year, 
awarded liim rather late, for havings at the express 
desire of Mr. Pitt's ministry, put himself to an 
expense of more than X'SOOj by quitting highly 
lucrative engagements, and opening his theatre in 
a hot July to considerable nightly loss {in town), 
where he was instructed to write, sing, publish, and 
ve away what were termed War Songs, is weU- 
iown, as he publicly stated the particulars, accom- 
panied by the melancholy fact that, before he had 
enjoyed the said pension long enough to repay hia 
actual losses in earning it, it was withdrawn by 
succeeding ministry, A pari of it was restor 
short period antecedent to his death j which 
place in 1814^ in his 69th year, in Arlington Stre 
Camden Town, He was followed to the grave by 

C^is sons Charles and Thorn as, his medical attend ant, 
and the celebrated philanthropic oculist and eccen- 
tric writer, John Taylor, of the Sun newspaper. He 
was interred in the burial-ground of St. James, Cam- 
den Town, where, in the midst of a clump of fluwering 

i by^ 



shmbs, his '^ frail memorial'^ tells you, from his own 
beautiful song, that 

" Though his body *s under hatches, 
His soul is gone aloft!" — 

which lines he had written in memory of a brother, 
who w&s many years master of a vessel in the 
merchant-service, and from whom he imbibed that 
devotedness to members of the nautical profession 
which characterised his works and life. 

He had another brother (an auctioneer) and a 
sister long since dead. He had three sons: — ^the 
youngest died at sea quite a youth, in 1794; the 
eldest, Charles, many years a proprietor of Sadlers* 
Wells Theatre, and author of the Operas of the 
"Farmer^s Wife/* **My Spouse and I/^ and innu- 
merable Burlettas, Songs, and Pantomimes, died in 
1831. He also left a married daughter, and the son 
who, with perhaps too minute prolixity, has attempted 
this Memoir. Mr. Dibdin wrote above 1300 Songs, 
and his sons nearly double that number. 

Mr. Garrick, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Harris (of Covent 
Garden), and Dr. Arne (of whose music he was 
enthusiastically fond), were, among many others, 
warm patrons and admirers of his talent. Charles 
Bannister, and his exemplary son John, were two 
of his most intimate friends. 

In 1824 a few gentlemen, who considexed \X. ^ 

lisgraoe that no ttastimonial liad been erected to 
memory of the Oceau Bardj \\'hose Songs were 

irresistible appeals to the lieart^ — inspiring the 
[lost illiterate with brare and generous sentimentsj 
atid exciting to acts of loyalty^ bravery^ and patriotismj 
which (in the most ardaous of her struggles) nssisted 
to maintain the honour and glory of the British 
Empire i and thereforcj as no pubUc matter can he 
well or prosperously arranged without a dinner^ a 
public Festival was held in Freemasons* Hall, under 
the special patronage of his late Majesty William IV,, 
|4it that time Duke of Clarence^ The lamented Ad* 
miral Sir Joseph Yorke^ KX*B.j was in the Chair, 
The most eminent vocalists of the day? to their great 
credit, aided the attraction of the entertainment by 
singing an excellent selection of the Songs of tlie 
deceased, Mr- John Parry directed this depart- 
mentj and Mr. T. Cooke presided at the piano-forte. 
Upward of four hundred guests attended, and a suift 
was collected J which, though insufl&cientj induced 
Committee to authorise Mr, fi.. W* Sievier to pi 
pare the model of a monument; when, for want 
I of additional funds, the matter lay dormant for ^^e 
years* Finally in April, 1829, an appropriate 
Musical Performance w^as given at Co vent Garden 
Theatre J under the title of the *^ Feast of Neptune," 
which produced the gross receipt of £600 12^,: 
I £200 being deducted for the hire of the theatre. 


and some other expenses paid, the remainder^ in 
addition to the money subscribed at the dinner, 
was given to Mr. Sievier, who soon completed the 
monument now to be seen in the Veterans' Library 
at Greenwich Hospital. 

But for the friendly perseverance of the deceased 
John Young, Esq., late Keeper of the British Gallery 
in Pall Mall, and the unwearied professional zeal and 
labour of John Parry, Esq., of Cambrian musical 
celebrity, the above desirable object would have 
never been accomplished. 

Mr. Parry says that out of these festivals sprang 
the present popular Melodists^ Club. So delighted 
was every one with the beautiful Melodies of Charles 
Dibdin, that several literary gentlemen, many of them 
connected with the public press, agreed to establish 
a Society for the promotion of British Ballad Com- 


Correct Copies of the Music of Mr. Dibdin's Songft 
may be had, either singly or in Pocket Numbers, of 
Novello and Co., in Dean Street, Soho; as also of 
Messrs. Purday and Co., 45, High Holbom, and in 
St. PauVs Churchyard. Of whom may also be had the 
Music of all the old National Songs in the latter part 
of this volume, either singly or in volumes, as collected 
by the late Dr. Kiccliiner, 

SONGS, &c. 


Go patter to lubbers and swabs, do ye see, 

'Bout danger, and fear and the like ; 
A tight water-boat and good sea-room give me, 

And it ent to a little I'll strike ; 
Thou^ the tempest top-gallant masts smack sniootli 
should smite, 

And shiver each splinter of wood, 
Clear the wreck, stow the yards, and bouse everything 

And under reef 'd foresail we'll scud : 
Avast! nor don't think me a milksop so soft 

To be taken for trifles aback ; 
For they say there's a Providence sits up aloft, 

To keep watch for the life of poor Jack! 

I heard our good chaplain palaver one day 

About souls, heaven, mercy, and «uch ; 
And, my timbers 1 what lingo he'd coil and belay, 

Why, 'twas just all as one as High Dutch : 
For he said how a sparrow can't founder d'ye see, 

Without orders that come down below ; 
And a many fine things that proved clearly to me 

That Providence takes us in tow ; 



For, any 8 be^ do yon mind rae, let atortns e'er ao oft. 

Take the tap-sails of aailors aback, 
There^s a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft, 

To keep watch for the life of poor Jack! 

f said to our Poll, for, d^ye see, she would cry, 

When last we wetgh'd anchor for sea, 
What argufies snivUlng and piping your eye f 

Why, what a damned fool you rouBt be t 
Can't you see, the world's wide, and there** room fbt 

Both for seaman and lubbers ashore ? 
And if to old Davy 1 shoidd go, friend Poll, 

You never will hear of me more ; 
What then? all's a hazard: eome don^t be so soft; 

Perhaps I may laughing come back, 
Fofj d'ye see, there's a cherub sits smiling aloft^ 

To keep watch for the life of poor Jack I 

D*ye mind me, a sailor should be every inch 

All as one as a piece of the ship, 
And witli her brave the world without offering to flinch, 

From the moment the anehor*s a-trip. 
As for me, in all weathers, all times, sides, and ends, ^ 

Nought's a trouble from duty that springs, 
For my heart is my Poirs and my rhino's my frlend'l 

And 03 for my life, 'tis the king's ; 
Even when my time comes, ne't-r believe me so soR 

As for grief to be taken aback, 
For die same little cherub that aits up aloft 

Will look out a good berth for poor Jack I 


Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear 

The main-mast by the board ; 
My heart with thoughts of thee, my dear, 

And love, well stored. 

Shall brave all danger, scorn all fear, 

The roaring w inds, the raging sea. 

In hopes on shore 

To be once more 

Safe moor'd with thee ! 

Aloft while mountains high we go. 

The whistling winds that scud along, 
And surges roaring from below. 
Shall my signal be. 
To think on thee. 
And this shall be my song : 
Blow high, blow low, &c. 

And on that night when all the crew 
The mem'ry of their former lives 
O'er flowing cans of flip renew. 

And drink their sweethearts and their wives, 
I'll heave a sigh, and think on thee ; 
And, as the ship rolls through the sea, 
The burthen of my song shall be — 
Blow high, blow low, &c. 


k„afo«'^Jp fife 

« ,f ve true c&uae ^^^ | 

'J Vie mo^*^*^ 

And the loud volley o'er the grave, 
Shall sound sad requiems to the brave 
While those alive 
Faint joy revive, 

And blend hope's smile with pity's tear. 
But when the jq^l hour shall come. 

To bring him home at last, 
How sweet his constant wife to greet. 

His children, firiends. 
And in their circling arms to find amends 

For all his sufferings past. 


Ye free-bom sons, Britannia's boast. 
Firm as your rock-surrounded coast; 

Ye sovereigns of the sea ; 
On ev'ry shore where salt tides roll. 
From east to west, from pole to pole. 
Fair conquest celebrates your name, 
Witnessed aloud by wond'ring Fame, 

The lads who dare be free. 

Mistake me not, my hearts of oak, 
I scorn with Liberty to joke, 

Ye sovereigns of the sea; 
Assist, uphold your Church and State, 
Your great men good, your good men great i 
Awe all abroad, at home unite. 
And jolly join in faction's spite. 

Then, then, my friends, you're free I 


While up the ehrouda the q^lor goes, 

Or ventures on the yard, 
The laodsmanj who no better knows, 

Believes hU lot h hard ; 
But Jack with smiles each danger meetSi 

Casts anchor, heaves the \ogt 
Trims all the sails, belays the sheets, 

And drinks his can of grog. 

When taoimtains high the waves that swell 

The vessel rudely bear. 
Now sinking in a hollow dell, 

Now quivering in the air. 
Bold Jack, &Ct 

When viraves 'gamst rocks and quicksands roar 

You ne'er hear him repine. 
Freezing on Greenland's icy shorei 

Or burning near the Line* 
Bold Jack, &c. 

If to engage they gi\e the word, 

To quarters aJl repair, 
While spltnter*d niasta go by tlie hoard, 

And shot sing through the nir ; 

Bold Jack, &c. ^ 


A PLAOUS of those musty old lubbers 

Who teach us to fast and to think, 
And patient fhll in with life's rubbers, 

With nothing but water to drink ! 
A can of good stuff, had they twigg'd it 

Would have set them for pleasure agog ; 
And spite of the rules 
Of the schools, the old fools 
Would all of 'em have swigg'd it, 

And swore there was nothing like grog! 

My father, when last T from Guinea 

Retum'd with abundance of wealth, 
Cried, "Jack, never be such a ninny 

To drink." Says I, " Father, your health !" 
So I passed round the stuff— soon he twigg'd it, 

And it set the old codger agog; 
And he swigg*d, and mother. 
And sister and brother. 
And I swigg'd, and all of us swigg'd it. 

And swore there was nothing like grog! 

One day, whai the chaplain was preaching, 

Behind him I curiously slunk ; 
And, while he our duty was teaching, 

As how we should never get drunk, 
I tipp'd him the stuff, and he twigg'd it, 

Which soon set his rev'rence agog, 
And he swigg'd, and Nick swigg'd. 
And Ben swigg'd, and Dick swigg'd, 
And I swigg'd and all of us swigg'd it. 

And swore there was nothing Aike ^Q%\ 

Tlien trust me, there's nothmg as drinking 

So pleasant on this side tlie grave : 
It keeps the unhappy from thinking, 

And makes e'en the valiant more brave. 
For me, from the moment I twigg*d it, 

The good stuff has so set me agog, 
Sick or well, late or earlyi 
Wind foully or ^irlyp 
I've constantly ewigg*d it, 

And, damme! there's nothing Uke grog* 


Thiit farewell my trim-built wherry! 
Oars, and coat, and badge, farewell [ 
Never more at Chelsea ferry 
Shall your Thomas take a spelln* 

Out, to hope and peace a stranger, 

In the battle's heat Til go, 
Where exposed to every danger, 

Some friendly ball may lay me low. 

Then mayhap, when homeward steerinp 
With the news my mess mates com^ 

Even you, the story hearing, 

With a sigh may cry — Poor Tom I 




The busy crew their sails unbending, 
The ship in harbour safe arrived. 

Jack Oakum all his perils ending, 
Had made the port where Kitty lived. 

His rigging, no one dare attack it; 

Tight fore and aft, above, below ; 
Long-quarter'd shoes, check shirt, blue jacket, 

With trousers like the driven snow. 

His honest heart, with pleasure glowing, 
He flew like lightning to the side; 

Scarce had he been a boat's length rowing 
Before his Kitty he espied, 

A flowing pennant gaily flutter'd 
From her neat-made hat of straw ! 

Red were her cheeks when first she utter'd 
It was "her sailor" that she saw. 

And now the gazing crew surround her? 

While, secure from all alarms, 
Swift as a ball from a nine-pounder, 

They dart into each other's arms. 


The signal to engage ahall he 

A whistle and a hollow ; 
Be one and all but finn, like me, 

And conquest soon will follow. 
You, Gunnel, keep the helm in hand'^ 

Thus, thus, boys I steady, steady 
'Till right a-head you see the land, 

Then, soon as we are ready. 
The signal, &c* 

Keepj boys, a good look out, d*ye hear I 
'Tis for Old England's honour ; 

Juni as you brought your lower tief 
Broadside to bear upon her, 
The signal, &c, 

All hands then^ lads, the sliip to clear; 

Load all your guns and mortars ; 
Silent as death th' attack prepare ; 

And, when you^re all at quarters^ 
The flignal, &c. 


If, my hearty, you'd not like & lubber appear, 
You must very well know how to hand, reef, and steer 4 
Yet a better manoeuvre 'raongst seaman is found, — 
'Tis the tight little maxim to know how to sound \ 
Which a sailor can teO from a bay to a shoal,^ 
But the best sort of sounding Is sounding the bowL 


i've sounded at land, and I've sounded at sea, 
I've sounded a-weather, and sounded a-lee, 
Tve sounded my quine at the randivoo-house, 
And I've sounded my purse without finding a souse ; 
What then? we've a brother in each honest soul, 
And sailors can ne'er want for sounding the bowl. 

All men try for soundings wherever they steer, — 
Your nabobs for soundings strive hard in Cape Clear ; 
And there is not a soul from the devil to the pope, 
That could live but for sounding the Cape of Good Hope : 
No fear, then, nor danger, our hearts shall control ; 
Though at sea we're in soundings, while sounding the 


Smiling grog is the sailor's best hope, his sheet anchor, 

His compass, his cable, his log, 
That gives him a heart which life's care cannot canker ; 
Though dangers around him 
Unite to confound him, 
He braves them, and tips off his grog. 
'Tis grog, only grog. 

Is his rudder, his compass, his cable, his log. 
The sailor's sheet anchor is grog. 

What though he to a friend in trust 

His prize-money convey. 
Who, to his bond of faith unjust, 

Cheats him, and runs away* 


What's to be done? He vents a cune 

^Gainst all false hearts ashore ; 
Of the remainder clears his purae, 
And then to se for more* 
There smiling grog, &c. 

What though his girl, who of%;en swora. 

To know no other charms, 
He finds when he returns ashore^ 

Clasped in his rivals arms : 
What*s to be done ? He vents a curs^ i 

And seeks a kinder she; 
Dances, gets, groggy, clears his purse^ 

And goes again to sea. 

To crosses home, still trusting there 
The waves less faithless than the fair ; 
There into toils to rush again, 
And stormy perils brave — what then ? 
Smiling grog, &c., 


1 sail'd in the good ship the Kitty, 

With a smart blowing gale and rough seaf 

Left my Polly the lads call so pretty^ 
Safe here at anchor^ — Yo, Yea I 

She blubbered salt tears when we parted. 

And cried, "Now be constant to raeT' 
1 told her not to be down-hearted, 

So up went the anchor — Yop Yea! 


And from that time, no worse nor no better, 
I've thought on just nothing but she ; 

Nor could grog nor flip make me forget her, 
She's my best bower-anchor— Yo, Yea! 

When the wind whistled larboard and starboard. 
And the storm came on weather and lee, 

The hope I with her should be harbour'd 
Was my cable and anchor — ^Yo, Yea ! 

And yet, my boys, would you believe me ? 

I retum'd with no rhino from sea ; 
Mistress Polly would never receive me, 

So again I heav*d anchor — Yo, Yea ! 


And did not you hear of a jolly young waterman. 

Who at Blackfriars Bridge used for to ply? 
He feathered his oars with such skill and dexterity, 

Winning each heart and delighting each eye. 
He looked so neat and row'd so steadily. 
The maidens all flocked to his boat so readily ; 
And he eyed the young rogues with so charming an air, 
That this waterman ne'er was in want of a fare. 

What sights of fine folks he row'd in his wherry, 
'Twas clean'd out so nice and so painted withal : 

He was always first oar» when the fine city ladies 
In a party to Ranelagh went, or Vauxhall, 


And oftentimes would they be gigglifig and leering, 
But 'twas all one to Tom their gibiag and jeering; 
For loving or liking he little did care, 
For this waterman ne^er wus in want of a fare. 

And yet but to see how strangely things happen,-*- 

As he row'd along thinking of nothing at all, 
ile was phed by a damsel so lovely and charming, 

That she smiled and so straightway in love did Le falh 
And would this young damsel but banisb his sorrow, 
He'd wed her to night, before to-morrow. 
And how sbould this w^aterman ever know care, 
When he^s married and never in want of a fare? 


Whek last from the Straits we had fairly cast snchor^ 
I went, Bonny Kitty to hail, 

iTith quintables stored, for our voyage was a spanker, 
And brsyfi new was every sail : 

But I knew well enough how, with words flweet as hon 

They trick na poor tars of onr gold, 
And when the sly gipsies have finger 'd the money, 
The bag they give poor Jack to hold. 

So I chased her, d*ye see, my lads, under false colours. 

Swore my riches were all at an end^ 
That I*d sported a^av all my good looking dollars, 

And borrow 'd my C"g8 of a friend. 


O then, had you seen her, no longer " my honey," 

*Twas varlet, audacious, and bold, 
B^one from my sight! now you've spent all your money, 

For Kitty the bag you may hold. 

With that I took out double handfuls of shiners, 

And scornfully bid her good bye ; 
Twould have done your heart good, had you then seen 
ber fine airs, 

How she'd leer, and she*d sob, and she'd sigh. 
But I stood well the broadside ; while jewel and honey 

She call'd me, I put up the gold. 
And bearing away, as I sack'd all the money. 

Left the bag for Ma'am Kitty to hold. 


Tp tars of their money are lavish, 

I say, brother, take this from me, 
Tis because we're not muck-worms, nor slavish. 

Like lubbers who ne'er go to sea. 
What's cunning, and such quivication. 

And them sly manoeuvres to we? 
To be roguish is no valuation 

To hearties who plough the salt sea. 

As for cheating, light-weights, and short-measures, 
And corruption and brib'ry, d'ye see. 

They never embitter the pleasures 
Of good fellows who plough the salt sea. 

YoiiVe ashore actions, writs, cesssranesii 
And regiments of counsel to fee ; 

Jack knows not ofsiicli-like v agarics — 
We never trust lawyers at sea« 

'Tis said tliat, with grog and our lasses 

Because jolly sailors^ are free, 
Our money we squander like asses 

Which like borsea we eam'd when at ne^t 
But let them say this, that, or t'other^ 

In one thing tbeyVe forced to agree, — 
Honest hearts find a friend and a brother. 

In each worthy that ploughs the salt sea. 


Yet though I Ve no fortune to offer, 
IVe something to put on a par ; 

Come, then, and accept of my profter, 
'Tis the kind Iionest heart of a tar, 

Ke'er let such a trifle as this is. 
Girls, be to my pleasure a bar, 

You'll be rich though ^tis only in kisse^ 
With the kind honest heart of a tar. 

BesideSf 1 am none of your ninntes 5 
The next time I come from afar 

I'll give you a lapful of guineas, 
With the kind honest heart of a tar. 


Your lords, with such fine baby face«, 
lliat strut in a garter and star* 

Have they, under their tambour and iaces. 
The kind honest heart of a tar? 

I've this here to say, now, and mind it, 
If love, that no hazard can mar, 

You are seeking, you'll certainly find it, 
In the kind honest heart of a tar. 


Your finikin sirs may in finery appear, 
Disdaining such tars as can hand, reef, and steer. 
On the decks spruce as tailors may cautiously tread. 
And live at the stem not minding the head. 
Old tough experienced sailors know, 

Where'er th y take their trip. 
Whether rising on mountains, or sinking below, 
The forecastle man's the ship. 

Your delicate fresh-water masters may treat 
With dainties, and like guttling aldermen eat 
Turn cabins to drawing-rooms, sleep on a bed, 
And despise English biscuit, to nibble French bread* 
Old tough, &e. 


This life is like a troubled sea, 
Where, helm a- weather or a^lee^ 

The ship will neither stay not wear. 
But drives, of every rock in fear* 

All seamanship in vain we try, 
We cannot keep her steadily ; 
Bnt just as fortune's wind may blow. 
The vessel^s tosticated to and fro ; 
Yet, come but love on boardi 
Our heart's with pleasure stored, 
No storm can overwhelm ; 

Still blows in vain 

The hurricanej 
While love is at the helm* 


BfiOTHEn soldiers, why cast down? 

Never boys he melancholy: 
You say our lives are not our own, 

But til ere fore should we not be jolly ? 
This poor tenement, at best, 

Depends on fickle chance : meanwhilei 
Drink, laugh, and sing j and for the rest 

We'll boldly brave each rude campaign ; 

Secure, if we return again, 

Our pretty landlady shall smile* 


Fortune his life and youni comniands» 

And this moment, should it please her 
To require it at your hands, 

You can hut die, and so did Csesar. 
Our span, Uiough long, were little worth 

Did we not time with joy beguile : 
Laugh, then, the while you stay on earth, 

And boldly brave, &c. 

Life's a debt we all must pay, 

'Tis so much pleasure, which we borrow. 
Nor heed, if on a distant day 

It is demanded, or to-morrow. 
The bottle says we're tardy grown ; 

Do not the time and liquor spoil. 
Laugh out the little life you own. 

And boldly brave, &c. 


What argufies pride and ambition? 

Soon or late death will take us in tow : 
Each bullet has got its commission. 

And when our time's come we muiit go. 
Then drink and sing — hang pain and sorrow, 

The halter was made for the neck ] 
He that's now 'live and lusty, to-morrow 

Perhaps may be stretch'd on the deck. 

here was little Tom Linstock of Dorer 
Got kitrd and left Polly in pain: 
Poll cried, but her grief was soon over, 
And then she got married again. 
Then drink, &c. 

Jack Junk was ill-used by Bet Crocker^ 
And so took to guzzling the stuff. 

Till he tumbled in old Davy's locker^ 
And there he got liquor enough. 
Then drink, &c. 

For our prize-money then to the proctor, 
Take of joy, while 'tis going, our freak 

For what argufies calling the doctor 
When the anchor of life is a-peak? 
Then dnnk^ &c. 


A sailoe's We is void of art 
PUin-aailing to his port, the heart. 

He knows no jealous folly: 
'Tis hard enough at sea to war 
With boisterous elements that jar- 
All's peace with lovely Polly. 

Enough that, far from sight of shore^ 
Clouds frown* and angry billows roarj 

Still is he brisk and jolly ; 
And while carousing with his mates, 
Her health he drinks — anticipatea 

The smiles of lovely Polly. 


Should thunder on the horizon press. 
Mocking our signals of distress, 

E'en then dull melancholy 
Dares not intrude : — he braves the din, 
In hopes to find a calm within 

The snowy arms of Polly. 


When last, in the Dreadful, your honour set sail. 
On Newfoundland banks there came on a hard gale, 
There was thunder, red lightning, and cold whistling hail. 

Enough the old gemman to scare ; 
One who threaten'd your life, dash'd below by a wave. 
Your own hand I saw snatch from a watery grave ; 
And all said 'twas well done, for that still with the brave 

The noblest of glory's to spare. 

When yard-arm and yard-arm 'long side of a foe, 
When the blood from the scuppers rain'd on us below. 
When crippled enough to be taken in tow. 

To strike we saw Mounseer prepare, — 
If a broadside below, or a volley above, 
The men were all ready to give her for love, 
How oft has your honour cried. Not a hand move: 

A hero's true glory's to spare ! 



A sAitoap and an honest heart, 
Like ship and helroj are ne^er apart; 
For how sliould one stem wind and lide 
Lf t*other should refuse to guide? 
With that she freely cuts the wavea : 
And so the tar. 

When clashing waves around him jar, 
Consults his heart, and danger braves 
Where duty calls ; nor asks for more 
Than grog aboard, and girl ashore, 

Tis not a thousand leagues from home 
More horrid that the billows foam ; 
'Tis not that gentler is the breeze 
In Channel than in distant seas^ 
Danger surrounds him far and near ; 
But honest tar, 

Though winds and water round him jar^ 
Consults his heart, ano scomB to fear ; 
The risk he runs endears him more 
To grog aboard, and girl ashore. 

Tis not that in the hottest fight 
The tnurd'rous ball wiU sooner light 
On him than any other spot, — 
To face the cannon is his lot ; 
He must of danger have his share. 
But honest tar, 

Though fire, and winds, and water jar. 
Consults bis heart, and shakes off care ; 
And when the battle's heat is o*er 
fn grog aboardi drinks glr\ ashore. 



I WAS, d*ye see, a waterman, 
As tight and spruce as any, 
'Twixt Richmond town 
And Horsleydovm 
I eamM an honest penny ; 
None eould Fortutfe's favburs briig 

More than could lUcky- 1 ; 
My cot was snug, well Ml'd my eag. 
My grunter in tiie sty. 
With wherry tight 
And bosom light 
I cheerfully did row ; 

And, to complete' this princely life, 
Sure never man had friend and wife 
Like my Poll dift ny Partner Joe. 

. I roird in joys like these awhile, 
. Folks far and near. caressed me» 
'Till, woe is me ! 
So lubberly. 
The press-gang came and presa'd me. 
How could I all these pleasures kave ? 

How with my wherry part? 
I never so took on to grieve— . 
It wrung my very heart. 
But when on board 
They gave the word 
To foreign parts to go, 

I rued the moment I was born 

That ever I should thus be torn 

From my Poll and my Partner Joe. 

did my duty manfully 
While on the billows rolling; 
And, night or day. 
Could find my way, 
Blindfold, to the main-top howlii^. 
Thus all the dangers of the main. 
Quicksands, and gales of wind 
I braved, in hopes to taste again 
The joys I left behind. 
In climes afar. 
The hottest war, 
Foiir'd broadsides on the foe, 
In hopes these perils to relate^ 
As by my side attentive sate 
My Poll and my Partner Joe. 

At last it pleased his Majesty 
To give peace unto the nation, 
And honest hearts 
From foreign parts 
Came home for consolation. 
Like lightning {for I felt new life, 

Now safe from all alarms) 
1 rush'd, and found my fnend and wiff 
Lock*d in each other's arms ! 
Yet fancy not 
I bore my lot 
Tame, like a lubber — no | 

For, seeing I w^as foully tricked 
Plump to the devil I fairly kick'd 
My Poll and my Partner Joe. 


That girl who fain would choose a mate 

Should ne*er in fondness fail her, 
May thank her lucky stars if &te 

Should splice her to a sailor. 
He braves the storm, the battle's heati 

The yellow boys to nail her; 
Diamond, if diamonds she could eat. 

Would seek her honest sailor. 

If she'd be constant, still his heart 

She's sure will never fail her, 
For, though a thousand leagues apart, 

Still faithful is her sailor. 
If she be false, still he is kind, 

And, absent, does bewail her; 
Her trusting as he trusts the wind. 

Still faithless to the sailor. 

A butcher can provide her prog, 

Three threads to drink, a tailor ; 
What's that to biscuit and to grog. 

Procured her by her sailor ? 
She who would such a mate refuse. 

The devil sure must ail her; 
Search round, and, if you're wise, you'll choose 

To wed an honest sailor. 


Jace Ratlin was the ab'est seaman, 
None like Lim eould hand, reef, and steer i 
No dangerous toil but he'd encounter 
With skill, and in contempt of fear. 
In figlit a lion ; the battie ended. 
Meek as the bleating Iamb be*d prove : 
Thiis Jack had manners, courage, merit ; 
Yet did he sigh — and all for love* 

The song, tlie Jest, the flowing liquor, 
For none of these had Jack regard : 
He, while his messmates were carousing^ 
High sitting on the pendaDt-yard, 
Would think upon his fair one^s beauties, 
Swear never from such charms to rove; 
Thai truly he'd adore them living, 
And, dying, sigh^— to end his love. 

The same express the crew commanded 
Once more to view their native land. 
Among the rest, brought Jack some ti dings, - 
Wotild it had been his love's fair hand 1 
Oh, fate I her death defaced the letter \ 
Instant his pulse forgot to move \ 
With qtiivVing lips, and eyes uplifted. 
He heaved a sigh — and died for love I 


H E A V I N r . T H E LEAD 


The boatswain calls, .the wind is- fair, 
The anchor heaving, 
Our sweethearts leaving. 
We to duty must repair, 

Where our stations well we knoi% , 
Cast off halliards from the cleets. 
Stand by well, clear all the sheets ; 
Come, my boys, 
Your handspikes poise. 
And give one general huzza: 
Yet sighing, as you pull away, 
For the tears ashore that flow ; 
To the windlass let us go, 
With yo, heave, ho! 

The anchor coming now apeak, 

Lest the ship, striving. 

Be on it drivit^. 

That we the tap'ring yards must seek, 

And back the foretop-sail well we know. 
A pleasing duty ! From aloft 
We faintly see those charms, where oft. 
When returning, 
With passion burning, 
We fondly gaze ; those eyes that seem, 
In parting, with big tears to stream. 
But come ! lest ours as fast should flow. 
To the windlass once more go, 
With yo, heave, hoi 

?ow the ship Is under weigh, 
The hreeze so wiDiiig 
The canvass fHIlng^ 
The pressed triangle cracks the stay, 

So taught to haul the sheet we know. 
And now in trim we gaily sail, 
The massy heam receiTea the gale i 
While freed from duty^ 
To his beauty 

(Left on the less'ning shore afar) 
A fervent sigh heaves every tarf 
To thank those tears for him that flow. 
That from his true love he should go^ 
With yo, heavej ho ! 


Of all the senaations pity brings 

To proudly swdl the ample heart, 
From which the willing sorrow springs. 

In others* woes that hears a part; 
Of all sad sympathy's delights, 

The manly dignity of grief, 
A joy in mourning that excites, 

And gives the anscious mind relief; 
Of these would you the feeling know, 

Most genVouif noble^ greatly brave, 
That ever taught a heart to glow, 

"Tjs the tear that Hedewa a soldier's grav^ 



For hard and painful is his lot, 

Let dangers come he braves them all ; 
Valiant perhaps to be forgot, 

Or undistinguish'd doom'd to fall : 
Yet wrapt in conscious worth secure, 

The world that now forgets his toil 
He views from a retreat obscure, 

And quits it with a willing smile. 
Then, trav'Uer, one kind drop bestow,— 

*Twere graced pity, nobly brave ; 
Nought ever taught the heart to glow 

Like the tear that bedews a soldier's grave. 


rs said we yentVous die-hards, when we leave the slmre, 
Our friends should mourn. 
Lest we return 
> bless their sight no more ; 
But this is all a notion 

Bold Jack can't understand. 
Some die upon the ocean, 
And some upon the land. 
Then since 'tis clear, 
Howe'er we steer, 
No man's life's under his command ; 
Let tempests howl. 
And billows roll 
And dangers press ; 
Of those in spite, there are some joys 

Us jolly tars to bless, 
For Saturday night still comes, my boys, 
To drink to Poll and Bess. 

One seaman hands the sails, another heaves the log^ 
The purser swops 
Our pay for slopi>, 
Th(i landlord sells us grog : 

Then each man to his statioa 

To keep life's ship in trim : 
What argufies noration ? 
The rest is all a whim. 
Cheerly, my hearts ! 
Then play your parts. 
Boldly resolved to sink or swim; 
The mighty surge 
May ruin urge, 
And danger press ; 
Of these in spite, &c. 

For all the world just like the ropes aboard fi ^hip 
Each man's rigg'd out, 
A vessel stout. 
To take for life a trip. 

The shrouds, the stays, the braces^ 
Are joys, and hopes, and fears; 
The haliards, sheets, and traces. 
Still as each passion veers. 
And whim prevails, 
Direct the sails. 
As on the sea of life he steen. 
Then let the storm 
Heaven's face deform, 
And danger press : 
Of these in spit^ &c. 


'TwAS in the good ship Rover 

I saird the world around, 
Vnd for three years and over 

I ne'er touch'd British ground ; 
At length in England landed, 

I left the roaring main, 
Found all relations strandedr 

And went to sea again. 

That time bound straight to Portugal, 

Right fore and aft we bore ; 
But, when we'd made Cape Ortugal, 

A gale blew off the shore « 
She lay, so did it shock her, 

A log upon the main. 
Till, saved from Davy's locker. 

We went to sea again. 

Next in a frigate sailing. 

Upon a squally night, 
Thunder and lightning hailing 

The horrors of the fight, 
My precious limb was lopp'd off; 

I, when they'd eas'd my pain, 
Thank'd God I was not popp'd off. 

But went to sea again. 

Yet still am I enabled 

To bring up in life's rear. 
Although I am disabled 

And lie in Greenwich tier ; 
Tlie king, God bless his royalty. 

Who saved me from the main, 
ril praise with love and loyalty. 

But ne'er to sea again. 


A s^^tlor's life's a life of woe, 

rie works now late, now eari)-, 
Now up and down, now to and fr j. 
What then? he takes it che^rly: 
Bless'd with a smiling can of grog, 
Ti duty call 
Stand, rise, or fall, 
To fate's last verge he'll jog: 
The cadge to weigli, 
The sheets belay. 
He does it with a wish I 
To heave the lead, 
C>r to cat-hoai^ 
The pondrous anchor fish : 

For while the grog goes roundg 
All sense of danger drown'd. 
We despise it to a man : 


We sing a little, we laugh a iitde. 
And work a little, and swear a little^ 
And fiddle a litde, and foot it a little^ 
And swig the flowing can. 

If howling winds and roaring seas 

Give proof of coming danger. 
We view the storm, our heart's at ease, 

For Jack's to fear a stranger : 
Blest with the smiling grog we flv. 
Where now below 
We headlong go, 
Now rise on mountains high : 

Spite of the gale, 

We hand the sail. 
Or take the needful reef. 

Or man the deck 

To clear the wreck. 
To give the ship relief; 

Though perils threat around. 

All sense of danger drown'd, 
We despise it to a man. 

We sing a little, &c. 

But yet think not our fate is hard. 

Though storms at sea thus treat us, 
For coming home, a sweet reward. 

With smiles our sweethearts greet us ! 
Now too the friendly grog we quaff. 
Our am'rous toast. 
Her we love most. 
And gnily sing and laugh : 

The sails we fojl> 

Then for each girl 
The petdcoat display ; 

Tlie deck we clear, 

Then three times cheer i 
As we their charms survey | 

And then the grog goes rouad, 

All sense of danger drown'dj 
We despise it to a man: 

We sing a little^ &c. 


JWWW V ^f V ^'^ 

TwAS Saturday nighty the twinkling stars 

Shone on the rippling sea ; 
No duty called the jovial tars. 

The helm was lash*d a-lee ; 
The ample can adomM the board, — 

Prepared to see it outj 
Each gave the girl that he ador'd. 

And pushed tlie grog about* 

Cried honest Tom, My Peg Til toast, 

A frigate neat aiid trim, 
All jolly Portsmouth's favoiirite boast ■ 

I'd venture life and limb — 
Sail seven long years and ne'er see land, 

With dauntless heart and stout. 
So tight a vessel to command t 

Then push the grog about. 



I'll give, cried little Jack, my Poll, 

Sailing in comely state, 
Top-ga'nt sails set, she is so tall, 

She looks like a first rate : 
Ah ! would she take her Jack in tow, 

A voyage for life throughout, 
No better berth I'd wish to know : 

Then push the grog about 

1*11 give, cried I, my charming Nan, 

Trim, handsome, neat, and tight ; 
What joy so fine a ship to man. 

She is my heart's delight ! 
So well she bears the storms of life, 

I'd sail the world throughout. 
Brave ev'ry toil for such a wife : 

Then push the grog about. 

Thus to describe Poll, Peg, or Nan, 

Each his best manner tried ; 
Till, summon'd by the empty can. 

They to their hammocks hied ; 
Yet still did they their vigils keep. 

Though tlie huge can was out. 
For, in soft visions, gentle sleep 

Still push'd the grog about. 


The wind was hush'd, the fleecy wave 
Scarcely the vessel's sides could lave. 
When in the mizen-top his stand 
Tom Clueline, taking, spied the land, 

%f sweet reward for all hh toil : 

Once more be views his native ioil — 
Once more he thanks indulgent Fate, 
That hringa him to hta bonny Kate. 

Soft as the sighs of Zephyr flow, 
Tender and plaintive as her woe. 
Serene was the attentive eve, 
That heard Tom's bonny Kitty grieve, 
'*0 what avails," cried she, "my pain? 
He's swallow'd in the greedy mam ; 
Ah, never shall I welcome home. 
With tender joy^ my honest Tom 1" 

Now high npon the faithful shroud. 
The land awhile that seem'd a cloud, 
While objects from the mist arise, 
A feast presents Tom's longing eyes, 
A riband near his heart which lay. 
Now see him on his hat display. 
The given sign to show that Fate 
Had brought him safe to bonny Kate. 

Near to a cliff, whose heights command 
A prospect of the shelly strand, 
While Kitty Fate and Fortune blamed, 
Sudden with rapture she cxclaim'd, 
*'But see, ob Heaven! a ship in view— 
My Tom appears among the crew * 
The pledge he swore to bring safe home 
Streams in bis bat — *m honest Tom I" 


What now remains were easy told : 
Tom comes, his pockets lined with gold| 
Now rich enough no more to roam, 
To serve his king he stays at home ; 
Recounts each toQ, and shows each scar, 
While Kitty and her constant tar 
With rev'rence teach to bless their fates 
Young honest Toms and Bonny Kates. 


Ben Backstay loved the gentle Anna, 

Constant as purity was she. 
Her honey words, like succ'ring mann 

Cheer'd him each voyage he made to w 
One fatal morning saw them parting, 

While each the other's sorrow dried, 
They by the tear that then was starting, 

Vow'd to be constant till they died. 

At distance from his Anna's beauty. 

While howling winds the sky deform, 
Ben sighs, and well performs his duty. 

And braves, for love, the frightful storm* 
Alas, in vain 1 The vessel batter'd, 

On a rock splitting, open'd wide ; 
While lacerated, torn, and shattered, 

Ben tliought of Anna, sigh'd, and died. 

The semblance of each cTiarming feamre 

That Ben had worn around hia neck. 
Where art stood substitute for nature, 

A tar^ hiB friend^ saved from the wrecki 
In fervent hope^ while Anna, burning, 

Blushed as she wished to be a bride, 
The portrait came-^oy turn'd to mourning-^ 

She saw, grew pale, sunk down and died. 


Resplendent gleam' d the ample moon, 

Reflected on the glittt*ring lee, 
The bell proclaimed night's awfbl noon^ 

And scarce a ripple shook the sea, 
Wheu thuSj for sailors, nature's care. 

What education has denied. 
Are of strong SL^nse, a bountc:ous share. 

By observation well supplied* 
Wliile thus, in bold and honest guise, 

For wisdom moved his tongue, 
Drawing from reason comfort's drop 

Iq truth and fair reflection wise. 
Right cheerfully sung 
Little Ben that kept his watch on the main^fcoji 

Why should the hardy tar coinplaint 
*Tis certain true he weathers more 

Prom dangers on the roaring main. 
Than l&sy lubbers do ashore. 

Ne'er Ut dw noble mind despair, 

Thou^ roaring aeas run monntaioB Ugh ; 
All thiiigs are built with equal carei 

First-rate or wherry, man <Hr fly* 
If there's a Power that never errs. 

And certainly 'tis so— 
For honest hearts what comforts drop-— 

As well as kings and emperors, 
Why not take in tow 
Little Ben that keeps his watch in the main-top ! 

What though to distant climes I roam, 

Far from my darling Nancy's charms, 
The sweeter is my welcome home, 

To blissful moorings in her arms. 
Perhaps she on that sdber moon 

A lover's observation takes, 
And longs that little Ben may soon 

Relieve that heart which sorely aches. 
Ne'er fear : that Power that never errs, 

That guards all things below — 
For honest hearts what comforts drop— 

As well as kings and emperors, 
Will surely take in tow 
Little Ben that keeps his watch in the main-top. 


I sail'd from the Downs in the Nancy, 

My jib how she smack'd through the breeze I 

She's a vessel as tight to my fancy 
At ever sail'd on the salt seas. 

So adieu to the white cliffs of Britain, 

Our girls aod our dear native shore ! 
For if some hard rock we should split 00^ 

We shall never see them any more. 
But sailors were bom for all weathers, 

Great guns let it blow high or loWt 
Our duty keeps us to our tethers, 

And where the gale drives we must go, 

Wheu we entered tJie Gut of Gibraltar, 

I verily thought she'd have sunk, 
For the wind began so for to alter. 

She yaw*d just as thof she was drunk. 
The squall tore the mainsail to shivers^ 

Helm a-weather, tlie hoarse boatswain cries ; 
Brace the foresail athwart \ see slic quivers, 

A a through the rough tempest she flies* 
But sailors, &c. 

The storm came on thicker and faster. 
As black just as pitch was the sky, 

When truly a doleful disaster 
Befel three poor sailors and I- 

Ben Buntline, Sam Shroud, and Dick Handsail^ 
By a blast that came^ furious and hard. 

Just while we were furling the mainsail, 

Were evVy soul swept from the yard. 
But sailorst ^c, 

Poor Ben, Sam, and Dick cried peccavi ; 

As for I, at the risk of my neck, 
While they sank down in peace to old Da?y, 

Caught a rope and so landed ou deck« 



Well what would you have ? We were stranded, 

And out of a fine jolly crew 
Of three hundred that sail'd, never landed 

But I, and I think twenty-two. 
But sailors, &c. 

After thus we at sea had miscarried. 

Another guess way set the wind, 
For to England I came, and got married 

To a lass that was comely and kind/ 
But whether for joy or vexation, 

We know not for what we were bom: 
Perhaps I may find a kind station. 

Perhaps I may touch at Cape Horn. 
For sailors, &c. 


Hebe, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling, 

The darling of our crew ; 
No more he'll hear the tempest howling, 

For death has broached him to. 
His fi>rm was of the manliest beauty. 

His heart was kind and sofi;, 
Faithful, below, he did his duty ; 

But now he's gone aloft. 

Tom never from his word departed. 

His virtues were so rare, * 

His firiends were many and true-hearted. 
His Pol} was kind and fair : 


And then he'd sing so blithe and jully. 

Ah, inany's the time and oft I 
But TDirth is turned to melancholy, 

For Tom is gone aloft* 

Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weathert 

When He, who all eommandB, 
Shall give, to call life's crew together. 

The word to pipe all hands* 
Thy a Death, who kings and tars despatches, 

In vain Tom's life has doff*d. 
For, though his l>ody*8 under hatches^ 

His soul has gone aloft. 


To ask would you come for to go 

How a true-hearted tar you*d discern. 
He's as honest a fellow, Vd have yoii to know, ^ 
As e'er stepp'd between stem and stern t 
Let iiiTious winds the vessel waft. 
In his station amidships, or fore, or aft« 
He can pidl away. 
Cast off, belay, 
Aloftt alow J 
Avast, yo ho I 
And handt reef* and steer, 
Know each halliard and gear^ 
And of duty every rig; 
But his joy and delight 
It, on Saturday night, 
A drop of the creature to twig. 

Tne first voyage I made to sea, 

One day as I hove the lead, 
The main-top gallant-mast went by the lee^ 

For it blew off the Devil's Head. 

Tumble up there, bear a hand, turn to, 

While I the foremost of the crew, 

Soon could pull away. 

Cast ofi, belay, 

Aloft, yoho; 

And hand, reef, and steer, 

Know each halliard and gear. 

And of duty every rig ; 

But my joy and delight 

Was on Saturday night, 

A drop of the creature to swig. 

There was Kit with a cast in his eye, 

And Tom with a timber toe, 
And shambling Will, for he hobbled awry. 

All wounded a-fighting the foe : 

Three lads, though crazy grown and crankf 

As true as ever bumbo drank. 

For they'd pull away. 

Cast off, belay. 

Aloft, alow. 

Avast, yo ho I 

And hand, reef, and steer. 

Know each halliard and gear, 

And of duty every rig ; 

But their joy and delight 

Was, on Saturday night, 

A drop of the creature to swig. 

Then over life's ocean 1*11 jog. 

Let the storm or the Spaniards come oil, 
So but sea-room I get and a skin full of grog, 

I fear neither devil nor Don ; 

For I'm the man that's spract and daft, 

In mj station amidships, or fore, or ai^ 

I can pull away, 

Cast off, belay. 

Aloft, alovr, 

Avast, yo ho f 

And hand, and reef, and steer. 

Know each halliard and gear. 

And of duty every rig ; 

But my joy and delight 

Is, on Saturday night, 

A drop of the creature to swig. 


AniBUf adieu, my only life! 

My honour calls me from thee ; 
Remember thouVt a soldier*B wife, 

Those tears but ill become thee : 
What though by duty I am call'd 

Where thundVing cannons rattle, 
Where Valour's self might stand appall'd, 

When on the wings of thy dear love 
To heaven above _ 

Thy fervent orisons are flown, 
The tender prayer 
Thou putt's t up til ere 
Shall call a guardian-angel down 

To watch me in the battle. 


My safety thy fair truth shall be, 

As sword and buckler serving, 
My life shall be more dear to me. 

Because of thy preserving : 
Let perils come, let horror threat, 

Let diund'ring cannons rattle, 
I'll fearless seek the conflict's heat. 

Assured, when on the wings of love, 
To heaven above, &c. 

Enough ; with that benignant smile 

Some kindred god inspired thee. 
Who knew thy bosom void of guile, 

Who wonder*d and admired thee : 
I go assured, my life, adieu ! 

Though thundering cannons rattle. 
Though murdering carnage stalk in view, 

When on the wings of thy true love. 
To heaven above, &c. 


I BE one of they sailors who think 'tis no lie. 
That for every wherefore of life there's a why, 
That fortune's strange weather, a calm or a squall, 
Oui berths, good or bad, are chalk'd out for us all ; 
That the stays and the braces of life will be found 
To be some of *em rotten, and some of *em sound. 
That the good we should cherish, the bad never seek, 
For death will too soon bring each anchor apeak. 

\Vlien astride on the yard the top-lifts they let go, 
And I com'd, like a shot, plutnp amoag 'em below, 
Why I cotch^d at a halliard, and jumpM upon deck, 
And so broke my fall to save break i rig my neck ; 
Just like your philosophers^ for all tlieir jaw, 
Who less than a rope gladly catch at a straw ; 
Thus tlie good we should cherish, the bad never seek. 
For death will too soon bring each anchor apeak< 

Why, now, that there cruise that we made off the Banks, 
Where 1 pepper'd the foe, and got shot for my thanks. 
What then? She soon struck; and though crippled 

And laid up to refit, I had shiners gdore. 
At length live and looking I tried the false main, 
And to get more prize-money got shot at again ; 
Thus the good we should cherish, the bad never seek J 
For death will too soon brbg each anchor apeak. 

Then just as it comes, take the bad with the good j 
One man*s spoon's made of silver, another^s of wood;] 
What's poison for one man's another inan*s balm. 
Some are safe in a storm, and some lost in a calm j 
Some are rolling in riches, some not worth a sousep 
To day we eat beef, and to-monrow lobs-scouse j 
Thus the good we should cherish, the bad never aeekp " 
For death w:ill too soon brii^ each anchor apekk* 



I WAS the pride of all the Thames, 

My name was natty Jerry, 
The hest of smarts and flashy dames 

IVe carried io my wherry: 
For then no mortal soul like me 

So merrily did jog it, 
1 lov*d my wife and friend, d*ye see, 

And won the prize of Doggett : 
In coat and badge so neat and spruce, 

I row*d, all blithe and merry, 
And every waterman did use 

To call me Happy Jerry. 

But times soon changed, I went to se^ 

My wife and friend betray'd me, 
And in my absence treacherously 

Some pretty frolics play'd me : 
Retum'd, I us*d them like a man. 

But still, *twas so provoking, 
I could not joy my very can. 

Nor even fancy smoking; 
In tarnish'd coat, and badge so queer. 

No longer blithe and merry. 
Old friends now pass'd me with a sneei^ 

And caird me Dismal Jerry, 

At sea, as with a dangerous wound, 

I lay under the surgeons. 
Two friends each help 1 wanted found 

In every emergence : 

Soon after my sweet friend and wife 

Into this mess had brought me^ 
These two kind friends who sjavM my life 

In my misfortune sought me: 
We're come, cried they, that once again 

In coat and badge so merry, 
Your kind old friends the watermen, 

May hail you Happy Jerry, 

Fm Peggy, once your soul^a desire, 

To whom you proved a rover, 
Wbo since that time, in man^s attire, 

Have sought you the world over | 
And I, cried t*other, am that Jack, 

When boys^ you used so badly, 
Though now the best friend to your back,- 

Then pr'ythee look not sadly. 
Few words are best r I seized their haads- 

My grateful heart grew merryj 
And now in love and friendship's bands 

Tm once more Happy Jerry, 


Botn Jack the sailor here I come^ 

Pray how d'ye like my nib. 
My trousers wide, my trampers nun. 

My nab and flowing jib? 
I sails the seas from end to end, 

And leads a joyous life. 
In every mess I tind a frjeiidi 

In every port a wife. 


I've heard them talk of constancy^ 

Of grief, and such-like fun ; 
IVe constant been to ten, cried I, 

But never grieved for one : 
The flowing sails we tars unbend. 

To lead a jovial life. 
In every mess to find a friend. 

In every port a wife. 

I've a spanking wife at Portsmouth GateSt 

A pigmy at Goree, 
An orange-tawny up the Straits, 

A black at St. Lucie : 
Thus, whatsomedever course I bendsi 

I leads a jovial life, 
In every mess I find a friend, 

In every port a wife. 

Will Gaft by death was ta'en aback, 

I came to bring the news, 
Poll whimpered sore, but what did Jack! 

Why stood William's shoes : 
She cut, I chased, but in the end 

She lov'd me as her life, 
And so she got an honest friend, 

And I a loving wife. 

Thus be we sailors all the go, 

On fortune's sea we rub. 
We works and loves, and fights the foe, 

And drinks the generous bub. 
Storms that the masts to splinters rend, 

Can't shake our jovial life, 
In every mess we find a friend. 

In every port a wife. til 


Thb wind wag bmb'd, the storm was ovtr, 

UnfiirlM was everj flowing sail, 
From toil released, when Dick of Dover 

Went with his tnessmates to regale: 
All dangers o'er^ cried he, my neat hearts, 

Drown care then in the amiliog can, 
Come bear a hand, let's toast our sweethearte* 

And first I'll give you buxom Nan* 

She's none of those that's always giving, 

And stem and stem made up of art; 
One knows a vessel by her rigging, 

Such ever slight a constant heart : 
With straw hat and pink stream ers flowing, 

How oft to meet me has she ran ! 
While for dear hfe would I he rowing. 

To meet with smiles my buxom Nan, 

Jack Jolly boat went to the Indies, 

To see him stare whea he came back, 
The girls were all off of the hinges. 

His Poll was quite unknown to Jack ; 
Tant masted all, to see w ho's tallest. 

Breastworks, top-ga'ant sails, and a fan i 
Messmate, cried I, more sail than ballast: 

Ah still give me my buxom Nan. 

None in lile*B sea «aD sail more quicker, 

To show her love or serve a friend : 
But hold, I'm preaching o'er my liqaor; 

This one word then and there's an end : 
Of all the wenches whatsomedever, 

I say then, find me out who can, 
One half so tight, so kind, so clever, 

Sweet, trim, and neat, as buxom Nan. 


Two real tars, whom duty call'd 

To watch in the foretop. 
Thus one another overhaul'd. 

And took a cheering drop : 
I say, Will Hatchway, cried Tom Tow, 

Of conduct what's your sort. 
As through the voyage of life you go. 

To bring you safe to port? 

Cried Will, You lubber, don't you know ? 

Our passions close to reef, 
To steer where honour points the prow. 

To hand a friend relief: 
These anchors get but in your power, 

My life for*t that's your sort ; 
The bower, the sheet, and the best bower, 

Shall bring you up in port. 

Why then you*re outj and there's an eod* 

Tom cried out blunt and rough, 
Be good, be honest, serve a fiiend, 

Be maxims well enough " 
Who swabs his bows at other's woe, 

That tar's for me your sort; 
His veaset right a-head shall go 

To find a joyful port. 

Let storms of life upon me presS| 

Misfortunes make me reel. 
Why, datn'me, what's my own distresi f 

For others let tne feel. 
Ay, ay, if bound with a fresh gale 

To heaven, this is your sore, 
A handkerchief is the best wet sail 

To bring you safe t6 port. 


If, bold and bravCj thou canst not bear 
Thyself from all thou loves t to tear,— 
if, while winds war and billows roll, 
A spark of fear invade thy soul, — 
If thou'rt appall'd when cannons roar^ 
I pr'ythee, messmate, stay ashore ; 

There, like a lubber, 

Whine and blubberi 


Still for tliy ease and safety busy, 

Nor dare to come 

Where honest Tom, 

And Ned, and Nick, 

And Ben, and Phil, 

And Jack, and Dick, 

And Bob, and Bill, 
All weathers sing, and drink the swizzy. 

If, should'st thou lose a limb in fight, 
She who made up thy heart's delight 
(Poor recompence that thou art kind) 
Shall prove inconstant as the wind,— 
If such hard fortune thou'dst deplore 
I pr'ythee, messmate, stay ashore; 
There, like a lubber, &c 

If, prisoner in a foreign land. 
No friend, no money at command, 
That man, thou trusted hadst, alone 
All knowledge of thee should disown,-* 
If this should vex thee to the core, 
I pr'ythee, messmate, stay ashore. 
There, like a lubber, &c« 


Why, don't you know me by my scars ? 
I'm soldier Dick come from the wars^ 
Where many a head without a hat 
Crowds honour's bed— but what of that? 

Beat drumst play fifes> *iiB glory calk^ 
What argufies who stands or falls ? 
Lordi what should one be sorry for? 
Life's but the fortune of the war ; 
Then rich and poor, or well or sick. 
Still laugh and sing shall soldier Dick, 

t used to look two ways at oace, 
A bullet hit me on the sconce, 
And dowsed my glim *, d'ye think Td wince 1 
Why, Lord, Tve never squinted since. 
Be&t drums, Sec, 

Some distant keep from war's alarms. 
For fear of wooden legs and arms, 
While others die safe in their beds 
Who all their lives had wooden headis. 
Beat druma» &c. 

Th\m gout or fever, sword or shot^ 
Or something, send us all to pot ; 
That we're to die, then, do not grieve. 
But let's be merry while we live. 
Beat drums, &c. 


The tar's a jolly tar that can hand, reefi and steer, 

That can nimbly cast off and belay. 
Who in darkest of nights 0nds each halliard and gear 
And dead re&k'mog knows well and lee- way ; 


But the tar to please me 

More jolly must be, 
He must laugh at the waves as tbey roar; 

He must rattle, 

And in battle, 

Brave danger and dying. 

Though bullets are flying. 
And fifty things more : 

Singing, quaffing, 

Dancing, laughing. 

Take it cheerily and merrily, 
And all for the sake of his girl ashore. 

The tar's a jolly tar who his rhino will spend, 

Who up for a messmate will spring, 
For we sailors all think he that's true to his friend 
Will never be false to his king* 
But the tar to please roe 
More jolly must be. 
He must venture for money galore : 
Acting duly 
Kind and truly. 
And nobly inherit 
A generous spirit, 
A prudent one more ; 
Singing, laughing. 
Dancing, quaffing. 
Take it cheerily and merrily, 
And save up his cash for his girl ashore. 

The tar's a jolly tar who loves a beauty bright, 
And at sea often thinks of her charms, 

Who toasts her with glee on a Saturday m^t, 
And wishes her moor'd in his arms* 

But the tar to please me 

More jolly must be : 
Though teased at each port by a icor^ 

He must, sneering 

At their leering, 

Never study to delfght 'em^ 

But scom 'em and slight 'em, 
Still true to the core : 

Singing, laughing. 

Dancing, quaffing, 

Take it cheerily and merrily, 
And constant return to his girl aeboTei 


^Jack dances and sings, and is always content, 
In his vows to his lass heUl ne^er fail her, 
His arichor's a-trip when his money's all spent^ 
And this is the life of a sailor. 

Alert in his duty he readily flies, 

Where tlie winds the tired vessel are fljngmg, 
Tliougli sunk to the sea-gods, or toss'd to the skieaj 

Still Jack is found working and singing* 

'Longside of an enemy, boldly and bravej 
He'll with broadside on broadside regale her, 

Y^et he*n sigh to the soul o'er that enemy's grave, 
Bo noble^'g the mind of a sailor. 

eXet cannons roar loud, burst their sides let the bombs, 
I Let the winds a dread hurricane rattle, 
The rough and the smooth he takes as it comes. 
And laughs at the storm and tla^ \jal\V^ 


In a fostering Power while Jack puts his trust, 
As Fortune comes, smiling he'll hail her, 

Resign'd, still, and manly, since what must be must,— 
And this is the mind of a sailor. 

Though careless and headlong if danger should press, 
And rank'd 'mongst the free list of rovers. 

Yet he'll melt into tears at a tale of distress. 
And prove the most constant of lovers. 

To rancour unknown, to no passion a slave, 

Nor unmanly, nor mean, nor a railer, 
He's gentle as mercy, as fortitude brave,^ 

And this is a true English sailor. 


Tight lads have I sail'd with, but none e'er so sightly 

As honest Bill Bobstay, so kind and so true. 
He'd sing like a mermaid, and foot it so lightly, 

The forecastle's pride, and delight of the crew I 
But poor as a beggar, and often in tatters, 

He went, though his fortunes were kind without end : 
For money, cried Bill, and them there sort of matters. 

What's the good on't, d'ye see, but to succour a friend? 

There's Nipcheese, the purser, by grinding and squeezing. 
First plund'ring, then leaving the ship, like a rat, 

The eddy of fortune stands on a stiff breeze in. 
And moimts, fierce as fire, a dog-vane iu lv\% VvaX.« 

My barkt though hard storms on life's ocean should toA 

Though fihe roU in misfortune aud pitch end for end, 

To, never ah all Bill keep a shot in the lockerp 
When by handing it out he can succour a friend. 

et them throw out their wipes, and cry, *^ Spite of the 

And forgetful of toil that so hardly tliey borci 
That sailors, at sea, earn their money like horsesi 

To squander it idly like asses ashore*" 
Such lubbers their jaw would coil up, could they measure, 

By their feelings, the gen'rous delight without end 
That gives birth iu us tars to that truest of pleasure. 
The handing our rhino to succour a friend* 

Why what*s all tius nonsense they talks of, and pother, 

About rights of man? What a plague are they at? 
If tliey mean that each man to his messmate's a brother, 

Why, the lubberly swabs ! every fool can tell that. 
The rights of us Britons we know's to be loyal. 

In OUT country's defence our last moments to spend. 
To fight up to the ears to protect the blood royal, 

To be true to our wives, and to succour a friend* 



^^M Why, good people alli at what do you pryl^ — 
^^^ Is't the stump of my arm or my leg ? 
L Or the place where I lost my good-looking eye ? 
^^H Or iff il to iee me beg t 


Lord love you, hard fortune is nothiilg it illy 

And he*s but a fool and a dunce 
Who expects, when he's running full butt 'gaiDM m wail. 

Not to get a good rap on the sconce. 
If beg, borrow, or steal, be the choice of mankind, 

Surely I choose the best of the three ; 
Besides, as times go, what a comfort to find 

That in this bad world there's some charity ! 

For a soldier I listed, to grow great in fame, 

And be shot at for sixpence a-day ; 
Lord help the poor poultry wherever I came. 

For how could I live on my pay ? 
I went to the wars to fight the king's foes. 

Where the bullets came whistling by. 
Till they swiv'led three ribs, broke the bridge of my nose, 

Queer'd my napper, and knocked out my eye. 
Well, what of all this ? I'd my legs and my arms. 

And at Chelsea to lay up was free, 
Where my pipe I could smoke, talk of battles and storms. 

And bless his good majesty's charity* 

But thinking it shameful to live at ray ease» 

Away while the frolic was warm. 
In search of good fortune I sails the sak 8eas« 

And so loses my leg and my arm. 
With two strings to my bow, I now though myself sure; 

But such is the fortune of war. 
As a lobster at Greenwich they show'd me the door. 

At Chelsea they call'd me a tar : 
So falling to nothing betwixt those two stools, 

I, the whole world before me, was free 
To ask comfort from misers, and pity firmA &qIh 

And live on that air« men's charitj* 

And wliat now of all this here patter at last! 

How many to bold tlieir heads liighj 
And in fashion's fine whirligig fly round so fast, 

Are but beggars as well as 1 1 

he courtier he begs for a snug sinecurep 

For a smile beg yonr amorous elves, 
hiirch wardens band the plate, and beg round for the poor, 

Just to pamper and fatten themselves. 
Thus we're beggars throughout the whole race of raanltind, 

As by daily experience we see ; 
And, as times go, what a comfort to find 

That in this bad world there is some dhanty! 


Poor Peggy loved a soldier lad 

More, far more, than tongue can tell ye, 
Yet was ber tender boaom sad 

Whene'er she heard the loud reveillez* 
The fifes were screech-owls to her ears, 

The drums like thunder seem'd to rattle, 
Ah 1 too prophetic were her fears. 

They calVd bim from ber arms to battle ! 
The wonders he against the foe 

Performed, and was with laurels crowxi'd. 
Vain pomp 1 for soon death laid him low. 

On the cold ground. 

Her heart all love, her soul all truth, 
That none her fears or flight disco verp 

Poor Peg in guise a comely youth, 
FaUowed to the field her lover. 


Directed by the fife and drum 

To where the work of death was doing. 
Where of brave hearts the time was come. 

Who, seeking honour, grasp at ruin ; 
Her very soul was chill'd with woe, 

New horror came in every sound. 
And whisper'd death had laid him low 

On the cold ground. 

With mute affection as she stood 

Did her weak woman's fears confound her ; 
While terror all her soul subdued, 

A mourning train came thronging round her 
The plaintive fife and muffled drum 

The martial obsequies discover. 
His name she heard, and cried I come. 

Faithful, to meet my murder'd lover ! 
Then heart-rent by a sigh of woe. 

Fell, to the grief of all around. 
Where death had laid her lover low 

On the cold ground. 


TvE saird round the world without fear or dismay, 

I've seen the wind foul, and I've seen the wind fair, 
Tve been wounded, and shipwreck'd, and trick'd of my 


But a brave British sailor should never despair. 


iThen b a FreDch prison I chanced for to lie^ 
With no light from the heavens, arjd scarce any air 
In a dungeon, instead of in battle, to die, 
Was diamal, I own^ but I did not despair. 

5ut Lord, this h nothing — my poor upper work* 
Got shatter* d, and I was obliged to repair ; 

Tve been shot by the French, and a slave 'mong the Turksi 
But a brave British soldier should never despair. 

But for all these misfortunes, I^d yet cut a dash. 
Laid snug up my timbers, and never know care, 

If the agent had not run away with the cash. 

And so many brave fellows plunged into despair. 

So coming longside of our bold royal tar, 

I told bim the rights on't — for why should T care? 

Of my wrongs and my hardships, and wounds in the war^ 
And if how be would right me, 1 should not despair « 

ays bis highness, says he, auch ill treatment as thine 
Is a shame, and henceforward thy fortune's my care ; 
So now, blessings on him, sing out me and mine, 
And thus British seamen should never despair. 

straightway he got it made into a law 
That each tar of his rhino should have his full share. 
And BO agents, d ye see, may coil up their slack jaw, 
For the Duke is our friend, and we need not despair. 

Then push round the grog, though we face the whole woil 
Let our royal tar^s pennant but fly in the air, 

And the sails of our navy again be unfurl'd,^ — 

Well strike wondVing nations* with awe and despair 




Adieu, my gallant sailor, obey thy duty's call, 

Though false the sea, there's truth ashore ; 
Till nature is found changing, thou'rt sure of constant Poll 
And yet, as now we sever. 
Ah much I fear that never 
Shall I, alas, behold thee more ! 

Jack kiss'd her, hitch'd his trousers, and hied him to 
Weighed anchor and lost sight of shore ; 
Next day a brisk south-wester a heavy gale brought on, — 
Adieu, cried Jack, for ever. 
For much I fear that never 
Shall I, sweet Poll, behold you more. 

Poll heard that to the bottom was simk her honest tar, 

And for a while lamented sore ; 
At length, cried she, 1*11 marry ; what should I tarry for I 
I may lead apes for ever, 
Jack's gone, and never, never 
Shall I, alas, behold him morel 

Jack, safe and sound returning, sought out his faithful 
Think you, cried she, that false I swore ? 
I'm constant still as ever, 'tis niature's chang'd, that's all| 
And thus we part for ever 
For nevei, sailor, never 
Shall I behold you more ! 


If, as you Bay^ that nature like winili can shift and veer» 

About sliip for a kinder sLorej 
I heard the trick you play'd me, and so, d*ye see^ my 
To a kind heart for ever 
I*ve spliced myself, so never 
Shall I, false Poll, behold you more. 


pi^Air£iKO Jack was so comely, bo pleasant, so jolly. 
Though winds blew great guns, still he*d whistk and 
For Jack loved his friend, and was true to his Molly, 
And» if honour giv<*3 greatness, was great as a king: 
One night as we drove with two reefs in the main-sail, 

And the scud came oo low'ring upon a lee shore, 
fack went up aloft for to hand the top-ga*nt sail, 

A spray washM him off, and we ne^er saw him more ; 
But grieving's a folly, 
Come let us be jolly ; 
If weVe troubles on sea, boys, weVe pleasures on shore 

Whiffling Tom still of mischief, or fun in the middle, 
Through life in all weathers at random would jog, 
He*d dance, and he*d sing, and he'd play on the flddlay 
And swig with an air his allowance of grog £ 


'Longside of a Don, in the Terrible frigate, 

As yard-arm and yard-arm we lay off the shore, 

In and out Whiffling Tom did so caper and jig it, 

That his head was shot off, and we ne'er saw him more : 
But grieving's a folly, &c. 

Bonny Ben was to each jolly messmate a brother, 

He was manly and honest, good-natur*d and free ; 
If ever one tar was more true than another 

To his friend and his duty, that sailor was he : 
One day with the davit to weigh the kedge anchor 

Ben went in the boat on a bold craggy shore. 
He overboard tipp'd, when a shark and a spanker 

Soon nipped him in two, and we ne*er saw him more • 
But grieving's a folly, &c. 

But what of it all, lads ? shall we be downhearted 

Because that mayhap we now take our last sup ? 
Life's cable must one day or other be parted, 

And Death, in safe moorings, will bring us all up ; 
But 'tis always the way on't; one scarce finds a brother 

Fond as pitch, honest, hearty, and true to the core. 
But by battle, or storm, or some damn'd thing or other. 

He's popp'd off the hooks, and we ne'er see him more I 
But grieving's a folly, Sec, 


Bleak was the morn when William left his Nancy, 
The fleecy snow frown'd on the whiten'd shore, 

Cold as the fears that chill'd her dreary fancy, 
While she her sailor from her bosom tote\ 

To k's fiO'd heart a little Kancy pressing, 
While a young tar the ainple trousers ey'd, 

In need of firmness in this state distress ing^ 
Will checked the rising sigh» and fondly cried, 
Ne'er fear the perils of the fickle ocean. 
Sorrow's a notion. 

Grief all in vain \ 
Sweet love, take heart, 
For we bnt part 

In joy to meet again. 

Loud blew the wind, when, leaning on that willow 

Where the dear name of honest William stood, 
Poor Nancy saw, toss'd by a tai till ess bitlow, 

A ship dash'd 'gainst a rock that topped the flood i 
Her tender heart with frantic thrilling, 

Wild aa the storm that howled along the shore, 
JJo longer conld resist a stroke so killing, 

"Tia he, she cried^ nor shall I see him more* 

Why did he ever trust the fickle ocean ? 

Sorrow's my portion, 
Misery and pain ! 

Break, my poor hearty 

For now we part 

Never to meet again. 

Wild was the eve, all nature w^as smiling. 
Four tedious years had Nancy passed in grief, 

When, with her children the sad hours beguiling, 
She saw her William fly to her relief I 

Sunk in his arms with bliss he quickly found her. 
But soon retym to Ijfei to love, and joy, 

Wbile her grown yoimg ones anxiously surround 1 
Ami now Wili da^ps his girl, and now his bo*' 


Did I not say, though 'tis a fickle ooean» 
Sorrow's all a notion, 

Grief all in vain ? 
My joy how sweet, 
For now we meet 

Never to part again! 


This here's what I does, — ^I, d'ye see, forms a notion 

That our troubles, our sorrows, and strife, 
Are the winds and the billows that foment the ocean, 

As we work through the passage of life. 
And for fear on life's sea lest the vessel should founder, 

To lament, and to weep, and to wail. 
Is a pop-gun that tries to out-roar a nine-pounder. 

All the same as a whiff in a gale. 
Why now I, though hard fortune has pretty near starv'd 

And my togs are all ragged and queer. 
Ne'er yet gave the bag to the friend who had serv'd me, 

Or caus'd ruin'd beauty a tear. 

Now there t'other day, when my messmate deceived me, 

Stole my rhino, my cliest, and our Poll? 
Do you think in revenge, while their treachery griev'd 
I a court-martial call'd?— Not at all. 



Till 3 here on the matter was my way of arg'ing,— • 

^fis true they hadn't left me a cross ; 
I A vile wife and false friend though are gone bj the ^ 
So the gain d'ye see's more than the loss. 
For though fortune^s a jilt, and has^ &c. 

The heart's all — when that's built as it should, aotind and j 

We go 'fore the wind like a fly, 
But if rotlen and crank, you may luff up for ever, 

You'll always sail in the wind's eye : 
With palaver and nonsense I'm not to be paid off, 

rtn adrift, let it blow then great guns, 
A gale, a fresh breeze, or the old gemman's head 0% 

I takes life rough and smooth as it runs : 
Content, though hard fortune, Src. 


Come, never seem to mind it, 

Nor count your fate a curae. 
However sad you find it, 

Yet somebody is worse* 
In danger some must come off shortp 

Yet why should we despair. 
For if bold tars are Fortune's sport, 

Still are they Fortune's care. 

Why, when our vessel blew up, 
A fighting that there Don, 

Like squibs and crackers fiew up 
The creWp each mother^s son. 


They sunk, — some rigging stopp'd me short* 

While twirling in the air : 
And thus, if tars are Fortune's sport, 

Still are they Fortune's care. 

Young Peg of Portsmouth-common 

Had like to have been my wife, 
'Longside of such a woman 

I'd led a pretty life : 
A landsman, one Jem Davenport, 

She convoy'd to Horn-fair ; 
And thus, though tars are Fortune's sporty 

They still are Fortune's care. 

A splinter knocked my nose off. 

My bowsprit's gone, I cries, 
Yet well it kept their blows off. 

Thank God 'twas not my eyes. 
Chance if again their fun's that sort, 

Let's hope I've had my share. 
Thus if bold tars are Fortune's sport. 

They still are Fortune's care. 

Scarce with these words I'd outed. 

Glad for my eyes and limbs. 
When a cartridge burst, and douted 

Both my two precious glims. 
Why, then, they're gone, cried I, in short, 

Yet Fate my life did spare ; 
And thus, though tars are Fortune's sport, 

They still are Fortune's care. 

I'm blind, and I'm a cripple. 

Yet cheerful would I sing 
Were my misfortunes triple, 

'Cause why — 'twas for my King. 


Besides, each Christian I exhort^ 
Pleased, will same pittance spare ; 

And thus, though tars are Forttuie*s spo!!! 
They still aro Fortune's care*. 


Comb J all hands ahoy to the anchor, 

Froin our friends and rdations to go ; 
Poll blubbers and cries, devil thank her! 

She'll soon take another in tow* 
This breeze, like the old man, will kick ul. 

About on the boisterous main ^ 
And one day^ if Death should not trick us^ 

Perhaps we may come back again. 
With a will-h0| then pull away jolly boys. 

At the mercy of fortune we go ; 
We're in for't, then dam'me, what folly, boys. 

For to be down-hearted, yo ho ! 

Our Boatswain takes care of the rigging, 

More ^specially when he gets dr«nk ; 
The bobstays supply him with swigging, 

He the cable cuts up for old junk. 
The studding-sail serves for his hammock, 

With the clew^lines he bougiit him lus c^ 
While ensigns and jacks in a mammock 

He sold to buy trinkets for PolL 
"^^lih a will-ho, &c- 


Of the Purser this here is the maxim, — 

Slops, grog, and provision he sacks ; 
How he*d look if you was but to ax him 

With the captain's clerk, who *tis goes snacks ? 
Oh, he'd find it another guess story, 

That would bring his bare back to the cat, 
If his Majesty's honour and glory 

Was only just told about that. 
With a will-ho, &c. 

Our Chaplain's both holy and godly, 

And sets us for heaven agog ; 
Yet to my mind he looks rather oddly 

When he's swearing and drinkii^ of grog i 
When he took on his knee Betty Bowser, 

And talk'd of her beauty and charms. 
Cried I, Which is the way to heav'n now, sir ! 

Why, you dog, cried the Chaplain, her arms. 
With a will-ho, &c. 

The Gunner's a devil of a bubber. 

The Carfindo can't fish a mast. 
The Surgeon's a lazy land lubber. 

The Master can't steer if he's as't ; 
The Lieutenants conceit are all wrapp'd in, 

The Mates scarcely merit their flip. 
Nor is there a swab, but the Captain, 

Knows the stem firom the stem of the ship 
With a will-ho, &c. 

Now, fore and aft having abused them. 

Just but for my fancy and gig. 
Could I find any one that ill-used them» 

Damn me, but I'd tickle bis vrV^. 

Jack never was known for a railer, 
'Twas fun every word that I spoke, 

And the sign of a true-hearted sailor 
Is to give and to take a good joke- 
With a will-ho, &c» 


['HE surge hoarsely murmuring, yoting Fanny's grie 
The spray rudely dashing as salt as her tears; 
The ships in t!ie oflRng, perpetually rocking, 

Too faithfiil a type of her hopes and her fears. 
'Twas here^ she cried out, that Jack*s vows were so many, 

Here I bitterly wept, and I bitterly weep ; 
Her heart-whole he swore to return to his Fanny^ 
Near the trembling pine that nods over the deep. 

Ahi mock not my troubles, ye pitiless breakers^ 

Ye windsjj do not thns melt my heart with alarms ; 
|e is your pride and mine, in my g^rief tlien partakers, 

My sailor in safety waft back to my arms. 
They are deaf and ungrateful ; these woes are too many ; 1 

Here, here will I die, where I bitterly weep : 
Some true lover shall write the sad fute of poor Faun}? 

On the trembling pine that hangs over the deep. 

bus, her heart sadly torn with its wild perturbation. 
No friend but her sorrow, no hope but her graven 
Led on by her grief to the last desperation. 
She ran to the clifT, and plung'd into the wave* 



A tar saved her life— the fond tale shall please many, 
Who before wept her fate, now no longer shall weep : 

Twas her Jack, who, returning, had sought out his Fanny, 
Near the trembling pine that hangs over the deep. 


The wind blew hard, the sea ran high. 
The dingy scud drove 'cross the sky. 
All was safe lash*d, the bowl was slung, 
When careless thus Ned Haulyard sung : 
A sailor's life's a life for me. 
He takes his duty merrily ; 
If winds can whistle, he can sing. 
Still faithful to his friend and king ; 
He gets beloved by all the ship. 
And toasts his girl and drinks his flip. 

Down topsails, boys, the gale comes on, 
To strike top-gallant yards they run. 
And now to hand the sail prepared, 
Ned cheerful sings upon the yard : 
A sailor's life, &c. 

A leak, a leak ! — come, lads, be bold. 
There's five foot water in the hold ; 
Eager on deck see Haulyard jump, 
And hark, while working at the pump ; 
A sailor's life, &c. 

the wemei noi^Ht cwa uve ( 
She itrike« and finds m wafrf grwre! 
Vet Neil preferred, with a few moTe, 
8mg« m he treads a foreign nhare: 
A tiiilor'B life, &c. 

And now unnumberM peril* paal. 
On landf aj ivc4] as sea — at last 
In tsttters to hii^ Poll and home 
See honest Haulyard ringing come; 
A sailor's life, kct 

Yet fOT poor Haulyard what disgrace !- 
Poll swears she never saw his face ; 
He damn« her for a faithless she. 
And tinging goes again to sea; 
A sail or' K lifei &e. 


The breejBe was fresh, the ship in 8tay% 
Each breaker hu«h'dj the sliore a ha^'v 
When Jack, no more on duty called, 
His true-love's tokens overhatiFd : 
The broken gold, ihe braided hair^ 
Tive tender motto, writ no fair, 
Upon his *bacco box be viewSf 
Nancy tlie poetf Love the muse : 
*' If you loves I as I !ovc« yol^ 
Ho pair so happy as we two.** 


The storm — ^that like a shapeless wreck 
Had strew *d with rigging all the deck, 
That tars for sharks had given a feast, 
And left the ship a hulk^-had ceased : 
When Jack, as with his messmates dear 
He shared the grog, their hearts to cheer, 
Took from his 'bacco-box a quid, 
And spelt, for comfort, on the lid, 
" If you loves I as I loves you, 
No pair so happy as we two." 

The battle — that with horror grim, 
Had madly ravaged life and limb. 
Had scuppers drenched with human gore. 
And widow'd many a wife — was o'er : 
When Jack to his companions dear 
First paid the tribute of a tear. 
Then, as his *bacco-box he held. 
Restored his comfort, as he spell*d, 
" If you loves I as I loves you. 
No pair so happy as we two." 

The voyage — that had been long and hard. 
But that had yielded full reward ; 
That brought, each sailor to his friend, 
Happy and rich — was at an end ; 
When Jack, his toils and perils o'er, 
Beheld his Nancy on the shore. 
He then the 'bacco-box displayed. 
And cried, and seized the willing maid, 
" If you loves I as I loves you, 
No pair so happy as we two." 


If ever a sailor was fond of good sport 

'Mongst the girls, why that sailor was I, 
Of all sizes and sorts, I'd a wife at each port, 

But* when that I saw*d Polly Ply, 
I haiVd her my lovely, and gov'd her a kiss, 

And swore to bring up once for all, 
And from that time black Barnaby spliced us to tbfsp 

I've been constant and true to my Poll, 


id yet now all sorts of temptations IVe stood, 

For I afterwards sail'd round the world, 
And a queer set we saw of the devil's own brood, 

Wherever our sails were unftirrd ; 
Borne with faces like charcoal, and others like chalk, 

All reaJy one's hearts to o'erbaid, 
** Don't yott go to love me, my good girl/' said I — " walkl 

IVe sworn to be constant to Poll." 


et with a squaw out at India, beyond, 

All in glass and tobacco-pipes dressed, 
What a dear pretty monster ! so kind and so fond, 

That I ne*er was a moment at rest. 
With her bobs at her nose, and her quaw, quaw, quaw* 

All the world like a Bartlemy doll ; 
Says I, " You Miss Copperskin, just hold your jaw.— 

I Ve sworn to be constant to Poll/^ 


I'hen one near Sumatra, just under the Line, 

As fond as a witch in a play ; 
**I loves you," says she, "and just only be mine, 

Or by poison 1*11 take you away," 
"Curse your kindness," says I, "but you can't frighter 

You don't catch a gudgeon this haul ; 
If 1 do take your ratsbane, why then, do you see, 

I shall die true and constant to Poll." 

But I 'scaped from them all, tawny, lily, and black. 

And merrily weather'd each storm. 
And, my neighbours to please, full of wonders came 

But, what's better, I'm grown pretty warm. 
And so now to sea I shall venture no more. 

For you know, being rich, I've no call ; 
So I'll bring up young tars, do my duty ashore, 

And live and die constant to Poll. 


The martial pomp, the mournful train, 
Bespeak some honour'd hero slain ! 
The obsequies denote him brave ; 
Hark the volley o'er his grave : 
The awful knell sounds low and lorn, 
Yet cease, ye kindred brave, to mourn. 

The plaintive fife and muftlud lirum 
The man may summoti to lib silent hoitm ' 
The soldier lives : — his deeds to trace, 
Behold the Seraph Glory place 
An ever-living laurel round his sacred iomht 
Nor deem it hard^ ye thoughtless gay, 
Short's man^s longest earthly stay ; 
Our little hour of life we try, 
And then depart : we're born to die- 
Then lose no moment dear to fame,^ 
They longest live who live in name. 
The plaintive fife, &c. 


The Yarn^outh roads are right aliead. 

The crew with ardour burnings 
Jack sings out as he heaves the lead. 
On tack and half- tack turning ; 
By the dip eleven 1 
Lash'd in the chains, the line he coils^ 
Then round his head 'tis swinging ; 
And thus to make the land he toila. 
In numhers quaintly singing. 
By the mark seven 1 
And now, lest we run bump ashore, 
He heaves the lead, and sings ouce more, 
Quarter less four I 
About ship, lads, tumble up there, can't you see ? 
Stand by, well ; Lark, hark ; helm's a-lee I 
Here she comes, up tac^kM and sheets^ haul^ mairMail hau 

ind as the long-lost shore they view. 
F.xulting shout the happy crew ; 
Each singing as the sails he fiirVf^, 
Hey for the fiddles and the girls 

The next tack we run out to sea, 
Old England scarce appearing: 
Again we tack, and Jack with glee 
Sings out as land we're nearing, 
By the dip eleven ! 
And as they name some beauty dear 

To tars of bliss the summit, 
Jack joins the jest, the jibe, the jeer, 
And heaves the ponderous plummet ; 
By the mark seven ! 
And now, while dangerous breakers roar, 
Jack cries, lest we run bump ashore. 
Quarter less four ! 
About ship, lads, tumble up there, can't you see? 
Stand by, well; hark, hark; helm's a-leeJ 
Here she comes, up tacks and sheets, haui mainsail haui 
Haul of all! 

And as he long-lost shore they view. 
Exulting shout the happy crew ; 
Each singing as the sails he furls. 
Hey for the fiddles and the girls. 

Thus tars at sea, like swabs at home. 

By tack and tack are biass'd. 
The furthest way about we roam» 

To bring us home the nighest^ 
By the dip eleven ! 

For one tack moic, and 'fore the wiad, 

Shall we, in a few ^lassesj 
Now make the land bf>ih true and kind, 
To find our friends and kssea: 
By the mark seven ! 
Then heave the lead, iny lad^ once more^ 
Soon shall we gaily tread the shore, 
And a half fonr \ 
"Ahout ship, lads, tuni\>le up there, can*t you seef 
Stand by, well ; hark, hark 5 helm's a-lee! 
Here she cotnesj up tacka and sheats, haul, mamsaO l^aul, 
Overhaul all! 

And as tlie long-lost shore they vieWi 
Exulting shout the happy crew ; 
Each singing, as the sails he furls, 
Hey for the Hddles and the girls. 


Tom Tackle was nohle, was true to his word; 
If merit bought titles, Tom might he my lord; 
How gaily his hark through Life's ocean would sailt 
Truth furnished the riggings and Honour the gale ; 
Yet Tom had a failings if ever man had, 
That, good as he was, n>ade him all that was bad ; 
He was paltry and pitiful, scurvy and mean, 
k.nd the sniv1 ingest scoundrel that ever was seen: 
■ so said the girls and the landlords Uongshore, 
Would you know wiiat his fault was ?— Tom Tackle 1 


'Twas once on a time when we took a galloon, 

And the crew touch'd the agent for cash to some tune, 

Tom a trip took to jail, an old messmate to free, 

And four thankful prattlers soon sat on his knee. 

Then Tom was an angel, downright from heaven sent! 

While they'd hands he his goodness should never repent : 

Return'd from next voyage he bemoan'd his sad case, 

To find his dear friend shut the door in his face ! 

Why d'ye wonder ? cried one, you're served right, to be 

Once Tom Tackle was rich — now Tom Tackle is poor ! 

I ben't, you see, versed in high maxims and silch ; 
But don't this same honour concern poor and rich ? 
If it don't come from good hearts, I can't see where from, 
And dam'me, if e'er tar had a good heart 'twas Tom. 
Yet somehow or 'nother, Tom never did right : 
None knew better the time when to spare or to fight : 
He, by finding a leak, once preserved crew and ship. 
Saved the commodore's life — then he made such rare flip 1 
And yet for all this, no one Tom could endure ; 
■ I fancies as how 'twas — because he was poor. 

At last an old shipmate, that Tom might hail land. 

Who saw that his heart sail'd too fast for his hand. 

In the riding of comfort a mooring to find. 

Reef 'd the sails of Tom's fortune, that shook in the wind : 

He gave him enough through Life's ocean to steer. 

Be the breeze what it might, steady, thus, or no near ; 

His pittance is daily, and yet Tom imparts 

What he can to his friends — and may all honest hearts, 

Like Tom Tackle, have what keeps the wolf from the door, 

Just enough to be generous — too much to be poor. 



Sweet is the ship that, under sail. 
Spreads her white bosom to the gale s 

Sweet J oh 1 sweet the flowing can ^ 
Sweet to poise the lahouring. oar, 
That tugs us to our native shore 

When the boatswain pipes the barge to raaoi 
Sweet Bailing with a favVing breeze ; 
But oh ! much sweeter than all these, 

Is Jack*fl delight — his loyely Nan 1 

The needle, faithfiil to the north, 
To show of constancy the worth, 

A curious lesson teaches man : 
The needle time may rust, the sc^uall 
Capsize the binnacle and all, 

Let seamanship do all it can: 
My love in worth shall higher rise. 
Nor time shall rust, nor aqualls capsize, 

My faith and truth to lovely Nan. 

When In the bilboes I was penned, 
For [Serving of a worthless friend, 

And every creature from me ran ; 
No ship performing quarantine 
Was ever so deserted seen, 

None haird me, woman, child, nor man; 
But though false friendship's sails were furled. 
Though cut adrift by all the world, 

l^d all the world in lovely Nan, 

I love my duty, love my friend. 
Love truth and merit to defend, 

To moan their loss who hazard rau § 
I love to take an honest part, 
Love beauty, with a spotless heart, 

By manners love to show the man ; 
To sail through life by honour's breeze— 
*Twas all along of loving these 

First made me dote on lovely Nan. 


Dick Dock, a tar at Greenwich moor'd. 

One day had got his beer on board. 
When he a poor maim*d pensioner from Chelsea saw ; 

And all to liave his jeer aiid flout, 

For the grog bhee in, the wit's soon out. 
Cried, How,* good master Lobster, did you lose your claw? 

Was't that time in a drunken fray ? 

Or t'other, when you ran away ? 
But hold you, Dick, the poor soul has one foot in the grave; 

'Fore slander's wind too fast you fly ; 

D'ye think it fun ? — ryou swab, you lie ; 
Misfortune ever claim'd the pity of the brave. 

Old Hannibal, in words as gross,— 

For he, like Dick, had got his dose, — 
To try a bout at wrangling quickly took a spell; 

If I'm a Lobster, master Crab, 

By the information on your nab. 
In some scrimmage or other, why they crack'd your shell ; 

And thent why, how you hobbling go 

On that jury- mast, your timher toe, 
A nice one to find fault, with one foot in the grave! 

But halt, old Hannibal, halt, halt! 

Distress was never yet a fault, 
Misfortune ever claim'd the pity of the brave. 

If Hannibars your name, d^e see, 

As sure as they Dick Dock call me, 
\s once it did fall out, t ow'd my life to you : 

Spilt from my horse, once when *twas dark, 

And nearly swallow'd by a sharlc, 
You boldly plunged ioj saved me, and pleased all the creivJ 

If that*s the case, then cease our jeers i 

When boarded by the same Mounseers, 
You, a true English lion, snatch 'd me from the grave, 

Cried, ** Cowards, da the man no harm, 

Dam'me, don't you see he's lost his arm V* 
Misfortune ever claim'd the pity of the brave. 

Then broach a can before we part, 

A friendly one, with all our heart, 
And as we put the grog about, well cheerly sing. 

At land and sea may Britons fight. 

The world's example and delight, 
And conquer every enemy of George our King. 

*Tis he that proves the hero's friend, 

His bounty waits us to our end. 
Though crippled, and laid up, with one foot in tfie j 

Then^ Tars and Soldiers, never fear, 

You shall not want compassion^s tear ; 
Misfortune ever claim'd the pity of the brave. 



Say, soldier, which of glory's charms, 

That heroes' souls inflame. 
Gives brightest lustre to their arms, 

Or best insures their fame? 
Is it her lion-mettled rage. 

Let loose from ardour's den, 
Legion with legion to engage, 

And make men slaughter men ? 
Is it to a defenceless foe, 

Mild mercy to forbear. 
And glut the call of vengeance ? No ! 

The brave delight to spare : 
'Tis clemency, pale misery's friend, 

Foremost m glory's van. 
To dry the starting tear, and blend 

The hero with the man. 

Then on the wretch fall double shame 

Who, in foul slander lored. 
Knows war alone by murder's name, 

The soldier by the sword; 
As blessings out of evils come, 

Let once the conflict cease. 
The eagle brings the halcyon home. 

War courts the smiles of peace: 

Yet he to higher merit vaulci 

Who glory's track hath trod, 
Great generous merit that exalts 

A mortal to a God* 
Tis demeocy, pale misery's &iea(l« 

Ever in glory *s van. 
To dry the starting tear, and blend. 

The hero with the man. 


TwAS one day at Wapping, his dangers overhauling^ 
Jack Junk cock'd his jemmy and broach* d a full can, 

While a posse of neighbours of each different calling, 
Cried, Only but hear what a marvellous man, 

Avasi, cried out Jack^ what's there inarvellotis in ii? 
When our time's come the stoutest of hearts must coroplj 

Why now» you master tallow-chandler, by way 04 
throwing a little light upon the subject, don't you thin^ 
His better to be extinguislied when one*s fighting in 
defence of one's king and country, than to stay at homi 
lingering and go out like the sniilf of a candle? 

Then like men do your duty we have all our minutCt 

And at sea or ashore we shall live tiU we die. 
Hurraw, hurra w, hurraW| boys^ let's live till we die. 

Why now, you master plumber, that marvels at billows 

I shall founder at sea, and you*ll die in your bed^ 
Whsit of that t some have sods and soma waves tor tbs^J 
And *tis hkely enough we may both die of lead: 
^ind as for the odds^ all the diffbrence that's in itj 
I shall pop off at once, and ^oii'U Vknoiatviv^yK 


Why, smrte njy crooked timbers who knows, but mas- 
ter Snip, there, may slip his cable and break his back 
with taking the ninth part of a fall off the shopboard into 
his own hell ? 

Then like men, &c. 

As for you, master bricklayer, to make out your calling 
A little like mine e'n't a matter that's hard ; 

Pray mayn't you from a ladder or scaffold be falling, 
As easy as I from a rattling or yard? 

Then, for you, its commission a tile may bring in it, 
As soon as a shot or splinter for I. 

As for master doctor, the undertaker, and sexton — 
they don't want no wipe from me ; they sends too many 
folks contented to their long home, not to know how to 
go there contentedly themselves. 

Then like men, &c. 

And when Captain Death comes the reck'ning to settle. 
You may clear ship for action as much as you like, 

And behave like a man, but he's such weight of metal. 
At the very first broadside the bravest must strike. 

And when you have said all you can, what's there in it? 
Who to scud 'gainst the storm but a lubber would try? 

For as to qualms of conscience, cheating customers, 
betraymg friends, and such like, being a set of honest 
tradesmen, I dare say you are perfectly easy about they 
sort of things. 

Then like men, &c. 


Tom Trueloye woo*d the sweetest foir 
That e*er to tar was kind. 

Her face was of a beauty rare, 

More beautiful her mind. 
His messmates heard : while with delight 

He named her for his bride^ 
A sail appeared, ah, fatal sight! 

For grief his love had died* 
Must I, cried he, those charms resign j 

I la?ed so dear, so well ? 
Would they had toU'd, instead of thine^ 

Tom Truelove's kneU. 

Brenk lieart at once, and there's an end, 

Thou all that heaven could give ! 
But hold I I have a noble friend — 

Yetj yet for him I'll live 
Fortune* who all her baleful spite 

Not yet on Tom had tried. 
Sent news, one rough, tempestuous nighty 
- That his dear friend liad died. 
And thou too ! must T thee resign, 

Who honour loved so well ? 
Would they had toll'd, instead of thine^ 

Tom Tru clove's knell. 

Enoughs enouglip a sak-sea wave 

A healing balm shall bring \ 
A sailor you, cried one, and brave t 

Live still to serve your king I 



The moment comes, behold the foe^ 

Thanks, generous friend, he cried : 
The second broadside laid him low ; 

He nam*d his love, and died. 
The tale, in mournful accents sung, 

His friends still sorrowing tell, 
How, sad and solemn, three times rung 

Tom Truelove*s knell. 


*TwAS post meridian, half-past four. 

By signal I from Nancy parted. 
At six she linger*d on the shore, 

With uplift hands and broken-hearted. 
At seven, while tautening the forestay, 

I saw her faint, or else 'twas fancy ; 
At eight we all got under weigh. 

And bid a long adieu to Nancy ! 

Night came, and now eight bells had rung, 

While careless sailors, ever cheery, 
On the mid watch so jovial sung. 

With tempers labour cannot weary, 
I, little to their mirth inclined. 

While tender thoughts rushed on my fancy, 
And my warm sighs increased the wind, 

Look*d on the moon, and thought of Nancy 

And now arrived that jovial night 
When every true-bred tar carouses ; 

When, o'er the grog, all hands delight 
To toast their sweethearts and tlvdi u^osoi&^siu 


Eotmd went the can, the jest, the glee^ 
While tender wiahes fill'd each fancy 5 

And when, in turn, it came to me, 
I heaved a sigh, and toasted Nancy! 

Next mom a storm came on at four. 

At six the elements in motion 
Plunged me and three poor sailors more 

Headlong within the foaming ocean* 
Poor wretehes 1 they soon found their graves ; 

For tne — it may be only fancy, — 
But love seemM to forbid the waves 

To snatch me from the arms of Nancy t 

Scarce the foul hurricane had cleared, 

Scarce winds and wsives had ceased to rattle^ 
When a bold enemy appeared, 

And, dauntless, we prepared for battle. 
And now% while aorae loved friend or wife 

Like lightning rush*d on every fancy. 
To Providence I tru sited life, 

Put up a prayer, and thought of Nancy i 

At lastj — *twas in the month of May, — 

The crew, it being lovely w eat her j 
At three a.m. discovered day 

And England's chalky cliffs together. 
At seven up Channel how we bore, 

While hopes and fear^ rush*d on ray fancy, 
At twelve I gaily jump'd ashore, 

And to my throbbing heart pressed Nancy ! 



Ip lubberly landsmen, to gratitude strangers, 

Still curse their unfortunate stars, 
Why, what would they say, did they try but the dangers 

Encountered by true-hearted tars? 
If life's vessel they put 'fore the wind, or they tack her, 

Or whether bound here or there, 
Give 'em sea-room, good fellowship, grog, and tobacker, 

Well then, damme if Jack cares where. 

Then your stupid Old Quidnuncs, to hear them all clatter 

The devil can't tell you what for. 
Though they don't know a gun from a marlinspike* 

About and concerning of war. 
While for king, wife, and friend, he's through everything 

With duty still proud to comply. 
So he gives but the foes of Old England a drubbing, 

Why then, damme if Jack cares why. 

And then, when good fortune has crown'd his endeavours, 

And he comes home with shiners galore, 
Well, what if so be he should lavish his favours 

On every poor object 'long shore ? 
Since money's the needle that points to good nature, 

Friend, enemy, false, or true. 
So it goes to relieve a distress'd fellow-creature. 

Well then, damme if Jack cares who. 

m*t yoit see liow some different thing ev'ry 

To take the command of a rib| 
Jome are aJi for the breast-work^ and some for the ngginjT'r 

And some for the ctit of her jib, 
Thoiigh poor, some will take her in tow, to defend her, 

And» again some are all for the rich j 
As to I J so she's young, her heart honest and tender, 

Wliy then, damme if Jack cares which, 

I my now if they go for to talk ahout living, 
I My eyes — why a little will serve : 
et each a small part of his pittance be giving, 
And who in this nation can starve? 
Content's all the thing — rough or calm be the weather, 

The wind on the beam or the bow ; 
Su honestly he can splice both ends together, 
Why then, damme if Jack cares how< 

nd then for a bring-up, d'ye see, about dyingp 

On which such a racket they keep, 
?hat argufies if in a church-yard you're lying, 
[ Or find out your grave in the deep 7 
)f one thing we're certain, whatever our calling. 

Death will bring us all up— and what then ? 
Bo his conscience's tackle will bear overhauliiig» 

Why then, damme if Jack cares when. 


No more of waves and winds ihe sporti 
Our vessel is arrived in port; 
At anchor see she safely rides; 
And gay red ropes adorn her sides ; 
The sails are furl'd, the sheets belay'd, 
The crimson petticoat's displayed, 
Deserted are the useless shrouds, 
And wenches come aboard in crowds. 
Then come, my lads, the flip put round, 
While safely moor*d on English ground, 
With a jorum of diddle, 
A lass and a fiddle. 
Ne'er shall care in the heart of a tar be found : 
And while upon the hollow deck. 

To the sprightly jig our feet shall bounds 
Take each his charmer round the neck, 

And kiss in time to the merry sound. 

Bess hears the death of honest Jack, 
Who swore he'd safe and sound come back ; 
She calls him scurvy, lying swab. 
And then she kindly takes to Bob. 
Ben asks the news of bonny Kate, 
Who said she'd prove a constant mate ; 
But winds and girls are false, for she 
Took Ned the morn Ben went to sea. 
Well, come, says Ben, the flip put round. 
While safely moor'd on English ground, 

With a jorum of diddle, 

A lass and a fiddle. 
Ne'er shall care in the heart of a tax \>^ io>ssA 

And while iipDa the hollow deck, 

To the sprightly ji^ our feet shaU bouui^t 

Take each hia charmer round die neck. 
And kiss in time to the merry sound. 

By will and power, when lost ashorep 

His rhino Tom to Poll made o'er ; 

Poll touched the priKe-money and pay^ 

And with the agent ran away : 

And Jenny, just as 'cute a trick, 

llh back once turn'd, play'd Whistling Dick ^, 

Dick left her clothes to cut a flash. 

She sold *eni all and spent the cash. 

But come^ says Dick, the flip put round. 

While safely moor'd on English grounds 

With a jorum of diddJej 

A lass and a fiddle, 
Ne*er shall care in the haart of a tar be found ; 
And while upon the hollow deck, &c. 

While feet and tongue like lightning go, 
Wtth'— What cheer ^ Suke? and How do, Joef 
Dick Laniard chooses Peg so spruce, 
And buYom Nell takes Kit Caboose* 
Thus ^mong^t the girls they left behind, 
A lot of true and false they find ; 
While fliey bewail the sliot or drown'd, 
And welcome home the safe and sound ; 
Still thankful, while the flip goes round, 
They* re safely moor'd on English ground, 

With a jorum of diddle, 

A lass and a fiddle, 
Ne'er shall care in the heart of a tar be fon^' 
And while npon the hollow deck, 5rc. 



I've heard, cried out one, that you tars tack and tack. 

And at sea what strange hardships befel you ; 
But I don't know what's moorings. What, don't yon ? 
said Jack : 

Man your ear-tackle then, and I tell you : — 
Suppose you'd a daughter quite beautiful grown. 

And, in spite of her prayers and implorings. 
Some scoundrel abused her, and you knock'd him down, 

Why, d'ye see, he'd be safe at his moorings. 

In life's voyage should you trust a false friend with th<? 

The top-lifts of his heart all akimbo, 
A tempest of treachery your bark will o'erwliehn, 

And your moorings will soon be in limbo ; 
But if his heart's timbers bear up against pelf. 

And he's just in his reckoning and scorings. 
He'll for you keep a look-out the same as himself^ 

And you'll find in his friendship safe moorings. 

If wedlock's your port, and your mate, true and kind. 

In all weathers will stick to her duty, 
A calm of contentment shall beam in your mind, 

Safe moor'd in the haven of beauty : 
But if some frisky skiff, crank at every joint, 

That listens to vows and adorings. 
Shape your course how you will, still you'll make Cud • 
old's Point, 

'^^ W pf} a i^eac^on at iliooriii|Ei. 


[a glutton's safe moor*d. head and stem, by the gout, 

A drunkard's moor d lUiJer the table, 
' In straws drowning men, will Hope*s anchor find out| 

While ft hairs a philosopher's cable; 
[ Thus mankind are n ship, life a boisterous maiHf 

Of Fate's hillows where all hear the roarings, 
[ Where tor one calm of pleasure we've ten storms of pai% 

Till death brings us all to our -moorings* 


SeE| the course throng*d with gazers, the sports are begun 
The confusion but hear! — 111 bet you, sir! — Done, done I 
Ten thousand strange murmurs resound far and near^ 
Lords* hawkers, and jockeys assail the tired ear. 
IVhile with neck like a rainbov^, erecting his crest, 
. Pamper 'df prancing, and pleas 'd, his head touching 

Scarcely snuffing the air, he's so proud and elate, 
The high-mettled racer first starts for the plate* 

Now Reynard's turn'd out, and o'er hedge and ditch rush 
Houndst horses, and huntsmen, all liard at his brush : 
They run him at length, and they have him at bay. 
And by scent and by view cheat a long tedious >vay ; 
While, alike bom for sports of the field and the course||l 
Always sure to come thorough a stanch and fleet horse^ 
When fairly run down the fox yields up his breath. 
The higb-mettled racer is in at the death. 


Grown aged, used up, and turn'd out of the stud, 

Lame, spavin'd, and windgaU'd, but yet with some blood , 

While knowing postilions his pedigree trace, 

Tell his dam won that sweepstakes, his sire gain'd thai 

And what matches he won to the ostlers count o'er. 
As they loiter their time at some hedge ale-house door, 
While the harness sore galls, and the spurs his sides goad. 
The high-mettled racer's a hack on the road. 

Till at last having labour'd, drudg'd early and late, 
Bow'd down by degrees, he bends on to his fiite ! 
Blind, old, lean, and feeble, he tugs round a mill. 
Or draws sand till the sand of his hour-glass stands still. 
And now cold and lifeless exposed to the view 
Tn the very same cart which he yesterday drew ; 
While a pitying crowd his sad relics surrounds, 
The high-mettled racer is sold for the hounds ! 


Give ear to me, both high and low, 

And, while you mourn hard fate's decree, 
Lament a tale right full of woe 

Of comely Ned that died at sea. 
His father was a commodore. 

His king and country serv'd had he ; 
But now his tears in torrents pour 

For comely Ned that died at sea. 

His sister Peg her brother loved^ 

For a right tender heart had she, 
And often to strong grief was moved 

For comely Ned ihat died at sea. 
His sweetheart Grace, once blithe and ga^. 

That led the dance upon the lea. 
Now wastes in tears the lingering day. 

For comely Ned that died at sea. 

His fiiendsp who loved his manly worth 

(For none raore friends could boast than he)i 
To mourn now lay aside their mirth 

For comely Ned that died at sea. 
Come then and join with friendly tear, 

The song, that midst of all our glee, 
We from our hearts chant once a-ye&r 

For comely Ned that died at sea. 


Why should the sailor take a witfe. 

Since he was born to roam, 
And lead at sea a wandVing life. 

Far from his friends and home ? 
When fate comes riding in the gaie 
And dreadful hurricanes assail 

The tar*s astonished ear. 
How could he resolution fororj. 
How, whistling, mock the roaring storm, 

But for his Nancy dear? 


' or baftle should the ship be clear'd. 

As death when all is still, 
Save from some tar a murmuring's heard,. 

Who sighs and makes his will : 
** My watch, my 'bacco-pouch, I give 
To Tom for her, should I not live, 

To my fond heart so near." 
Nor could he smile, the fight grown hot, 
And, whistling, mock the flying shot, 

But for his Nancy dear. 

When hissing flames now reach the sky, 

Now in the ocean dip, 
And, as to climb the shrouds they fly, 

Grasp the devoted ship ; 
How, while a yawning watery grave, 
Sole chance from fire the crew to save. 

Threats, could he calm appear ? 
How, quit the vessel, scarce afloat — 
How, whistling, board the crowded boat. 

But for his Nancy dear ? 

When shipwreck'd many leagues from home, 

The remnant of the crew 
Bewail some Dick, or Jack, or Tom, 

Whom well they lov*d and knew : 
And, while by strangers kindly fed. 
Who, as they hear the story, spread 

Their hospitable cheer, — 
How could he on such misery think, 
Yet, whistling, put about the drink, 

But for his Nancy dear? 

At last, when liungry, faint, and sore 

Through danger and delay ^ 
Forced, hard extreme ! from door to do» 

To beg his vagrant way, 
But see his toils are all forgot ; 
Hark, hark I within her humble cot, 

In accents sweet and clear, 
She sings the subject of her pain, 
He, whistling, echoes back the strain 

He taught his Nancy dear. 


Woutn'sT know, my lad, why every tar 
Finds with his lass such cheer ? 

*Tis all because he nobly goes 

And braves each boisterous gale that blows^ 

To fetch from climates near and far 
Her messes and her gear ; 

For this around the world sails lack, 

While love his bosom warms ; 
For this, when safe and sound come back, 

Poll takes htm to her arms. 
Ere Poll can make the ketde boil 

For breakfast, out at sea 
Two voyages long her Jack must sail, 
Encountering many a boisterous gale, 
For the sugar to some western isle, 

To China for the tea. 
To please her taste thus faithful Jack 

Braves dangers and alarms! 
While, grateful, safe and sound come bacV| 

FrtJI mkvi him to her aiTO^. 


Morocco shoes her Jack provides 

To see her lightly tread ; 
Her petticoat of orient hue 
And snow-white gown in India grew ; 
Her bosom Barcelona hides, 

Leghorn adorns her head. 
Thus round the world sails faithful Jack 

To deck his fair one's charms ; 
Thus grateful, safe and sound come back, 

Poll takes him to her arms. 


While the lads of the village shall merrily ah, 

Sound their tabors, I'll hand thee along; 
And I say unto thee, that, verily ah. 

Thou and I will be first in the throng. 

Just then, when the youth who last year won the dow'r 
And his mate shall the sports have begun. 

When the gay voice of gladness resounds from each bow'r, 
And thou long'st in thy heart to make one. 
While the lads, &c. 

Those joys that are harmless what mortal can blame ? 

'Tis my maxim that youth should be free ; 
And to prove that my words and my deeds are the same, 

Believe thou shall presently see ; 
While the lads, &c. 


Of us tars *tis repr>rtof again and again, 

That we sail round tlie world| yet know nothing of mcJ 

And, if this assertion is made with t!ie view 

To prove sailors know nought of men*s follies^ 'tis trueT 

How should Jack practise treacheryi disguise^ or foul ar 

In whose honest face you may read his fair heart f 

Of that maxim still ready example to give, 

Better death earn'd with honour than ignobly to live* 

How can he wholesome truth's admonidons defy, 

On whose manly brow never aat a foul lie ? 

Of the fair born protector, liow virtue offend ? 

To foe how he cruel ? how ruin a friend ? 

If danger he risk in professional strife, 

There his honour is safe, tliougb he venture his life; 

Of that maxim still ready example to give, 

Better deatii earn'd with honour than ignobly to live, 

' But to put It at worst, from fair truth could be swerve 
And betray the kind friend he pretended to serve. 
While snares laid with craft his fair honour trepan, 
Man betray him to error, himself but a man : 
Should repentance and shame to his aid come too late J 
Wonder not if in battle he rush on his fate 5 
Of that maxim still ready example to give. 
Better death eam*d with honour than ignobly to live. 


'TwAS landlady Meg that made such rare flip ; 

Pull away, pull away, hearties ! 
At Ws^ping she lived, at the sign of the Ship, 

Where tars meet in such jolly parties. 
She^d shine at the play, and she*d jig at the ball, 

All rigg'd out so gay and so topping ; 
For she married six husbands, and buried them all. 

Pull away, pull away, pull away ! I say ; 
What d'ye think of my Meg of Wapping ? 

The first was Old Bluff, with a swingeing purse ; 

Pall away, pull away, jolly boys ! 
He was cast away. Said Meg, Who cares a curse? 

As for grieving, why. Lord, that's a folly, boys ! 
The second in command was blear-eyed Ned : 

While the surgeon his limb was a lopping, 
A nine-pounder came, and smack went his head, — 

Pull away, pull away, pull away ! I say : 
Rare news for my Meg of Wapping ! 

Then she married to Sam, and Sam loved a sup ; 

Pull away, pull away, brother ! 
So groggy Sam got, and the ship he blew up. 

And Meg had to look for another. 


The fourth was bold Ben, who at dan^r would smile, 

Till his courage a crocodile stopping, 
Made his breakfast on Ben on the banks of the Nile ;- 

Ptdl away, pidl away, pull awayt I say; 
What a fortunate Meg of Wapping ! 

[Stay, who was the fifth ? Ohj 'twas Dick so neat; 

Pull away, pull away, so merry ! 
And the savages Dick both kill'd and cat. 

And poor Meg she was forced to take Jerry. 
Death again stood her friend, for, kill'd in a fray, 

He also the grave chauc'd to pop in; 
So now with my song I shall soon belay ; — 

Pull away^ pull away, pull away ! Belay 
The six bushands of Heg of Wapping* 

But I didn't tell you how that she married seven ; 

pull away, pull away, so neatly I 
'Twas honest Tom Trip, and he sent her to heaven, 

And her strong box he rummaged so sweetly ; 
For Meg growing old a fond dotard proved » 

And iTtust aftt^r a boy needs be hopping; 
So she popp'd off, and Tom, with the girl that he lav* J ! 

Pull away, pull away, pull away 1 I say I 
Spent the shiners of Meg of Wapping. 



Escaped with life, in tatters, 

Behold me safe ashore ; 
Such trifles little matters, 

1*11 soon get togs galore : 
tor Poll swore when we parted 

No chance her faith should jar, 
And PolFs too tender-hearted 

To slight a Shipwreck'd Tar. 

To Poll his course straight steering, 

He hastens on apace ; 
Poor Jack can't get a hearing,— 

She never saw his face. 
From Meg, Doll, Sue, and Kitty, 

Relief is just as far, 
Not one has the least pity 

For a poor Shipwreck'd Tar. 

This, whom he thought love's needle^ 

Now his sad mis'ry mocks. 
That wants to call the beadle 

To set him in the stocks. 
Cried Jack, This is hard dealing ; 

The elements at war 
Than this had kinder feeling — 

They spared a Shipwreck'd Tar. 


But all their taunts and fetches 

A judgment are on me ; 
I, for these harden'd wretches, 

Dear Nancy, slighted thee. 
But see, poor Tray assails me. 

His mistress is not far. 
He wags his tail and hails me. 

Though a poor Shipwreck'd Tar. 

'Twas faithful love that brought hira,- 

Oh, lesson for mankind ! 
'Tis one, cried she, I taught him ; 

For on my constant mind 
Thine image, dear, was graven ; 

And now removed each bar, 
My arms shall be the haven 

For my poor Shipwrecked Tar, 

Heaven and my love reward thee ! 

I'm shipwreck'd, but I'm rich ; 
All shall with pride regard thee,—- 

Thy love shall so bewitch 
With wonder each fond fancy. 

That children near and far 
Shall lisp the name of Nancy, 

Who saved her Shipwreck'd Ta/« 



Dearly as the stream that guides its vital motion , 

Be cherish'd by each grateful British heart 
The great event that gave the lordly ocean 
To English tars fresh laurels to impart. 
Valentine's-day in smiles came on, 
Love filled the seaman's anxious mind, 
Delighted with past scenes so sweet. 
While ardent hope kept every pulse alive, 
Sweet hope some glorious moment might arrive, 

To serve the wife and king and friend he lefl behind, 

When Jervis with his gallant fleet. 
Discovered the proud Don. 

Strange signal-guns all night distinctly hearing 

When day's faint dawn presented first the shore. 
We, anxious, on the starboard tack were steering. 
While east by north eight leagues Cape Vincent bore. 
Near ten propitious hope came on ; 
Our signal for a large fleet flew ; 
When instant with a press of sail, 
Form'd in two lines onward we gaily stood ; 
Till boldly dashing through the yielding flood, 
While honour fired each ship's determined crew, 
We proudly bore up within hail 
Of the astonish'd Don. 

Ships ti^ en tj? -seven now bid a bald defiance? 

Fifteen our number^ and of smaller size. 
So towVing elephants look down on lions, 
Till of their courage they become the prize. 
For now the trying hour came on, 
Thai each must act a gallant part ; 
Fate on one grand maniEuvre hinged ^ — 
One mighty stroke, prompt, dangerous, and bold, 
But what of English tars the courage can withold ? 
We broke thetr straggling line, scared every heart. 

And Jack the tawny whtskers fiing*d 
Of the astonish *d Don. 

Here might I dwell on this unequalVd action 
Tliat soars beyond example out of sight,- — 
That gaii>'d four ships — that broke a dangerous factic 
But English seaman never brag, — they fight 
Then let perfidious France come on. 
Aided by Holland and by Spain, 
In the deep a watery grave to meeti 
Fair England proudly with one voice shall sing 
The worth and virtues of a patriot king; 

While some such heroes lead the glorious strain 

As JerviB and his gallant fleet, 
That humbled the proud Don* 


I've saiFd the salt seas pretty much* 
And Tough'd it in all weathers, 

The Frenchj the Spanish j and the Butch, 
To buckle to their tethers* 


And in each voyage I must need 
You see, have known some service ; 

But all I've know'd and all I've seed 
Is now outdone by Jervis ! 

You've heard, I s'pose, the people talk 

Of Benbow and Boscawen, 
Of Anson, Pocock, Vernon, Hawke, 

And many more then going ; 
All pretty lads, and brave, and rum. 

That seed much noble service ; 
But, Lord, their merit's all a hum, 

Compared to Admiral Jervis ! 

Now there's the famous ninety-two, 

That made so great a bustle, 
When the Rising Sun and her whole crew 

Were all sent down by Russell : 
A glorious sight I've heard them say, 

And pretty was the service, 
But not like that on Voluntun's-day, 

Led on by valiant Jervis ! 

Bold Rodney did the kingdom thank 

For that brush in the West Indies, 
And Parker, on the Dogger Bank, 

The Dutch beat off the hinges. 
Van Tromp said how he'd sweep the sea. 

Till Blake showed him some service ; 
Fine fellows all, but don't tell me 

That they're the likes of Jervis! 

Towe Ttiade the Frenchmen dance a linif^ 

An admiral great and glorious — 
Witness for that the first of June, 

Lord, how he was victorious ! 
A noble sight aa e^er was seen, 

And did the country service; 
But twenty-seven beat with fifteen 

None ever did but Jervis 1 

A a for that same equality, 

That this battle well was fighte*^ 
In England high and low degree 

Are equally delighted. 
*Tis in the moutli of all one mtets. 

All praise this noble service j 
And ballad-singers in the streets 

Roars — Admirable Jervis * 

They say that he's hecome a lord. 

At his Majesty's desire ; 
He always was a king aboard,^ 

How can they lift him higher ? 
*TiB noble, that must be confessed. 

And suits such worthy service ; 
But the title heUl be known by best 

Will be — Gallant Admiral Jervis I 

To Thompson let the humbo pass, 
Grey, Parker, Wal grave, CauIUeri- 

Nelson that took St Nicholas,^ — 
My ttmbers, how he tnaul'd her I 


But we a freight of grog might start, 
To drink all on that service ;— 

Here's blessing on each noble heart 
That fought with valiant Jervis ! 

And bless the king, and bless the queen. 

And bless the fam'ly royal ; 
Let Frenchmen come, 'twill soon be seen 

That British hearts are loyal. 
Let Dutch and Spaniards join their hosts, 

They'll see some pretty service ; 
Zounds 1 who's afraid, while England boasts 

Such admirals as Jervis ? 


Mayhap you. have heard that as dear as their lives 
All true-hearted tars love their ships and their wives ; 
To their duty like pitch sticking close till they die, 
And whoe'er wants to know it I'll tell 'em for why : — 
One through dangers and storms brings me safely ashore, 
T'other welcomes me home when my danger is o'er ; 
Both smoothing the ups and the downs of this life, 
For my ship's call'd the Nancy, and Nancy's my wife. 

When Nancy my wife o'er the lawn scuds so neat 
And so light the proud grass scarcely yields to her feet, 
So rigg'd out and so lovely, t'ent easy to trace 
Which is reddest — ^her topknot, her shoes, or her face ; 

While tlie neiijhboura to see lier forget all their cares, ^ 

. And are pleased that she's mine, though they wish fihe ■ 

I theirs. I 

Marvel not, thcn^ to think of this joy of my life — m 

I my ship calls the Nancy, for Nancy's my wife. ^^B 

lAa for Nancy my vessel, but see her in trim, ^^B 

IShe aeems through the oeean to fly, and not swim ; ■ 
'Fore the wind, like a dolphin, she merrily plays, I 

She goes anyhow well, but she looks best in stays. I 
Scudding, trying, or tacking, 'tis all one to she, I 

Mountain high, or sunk low in the trough of the sea; ^ 
She has saved me from many hard squeaks for my life, J 
So I call'd her the Nancy, * cause Nancy's my wife. m 

When so sweet in the dance careless glides my heaa 
queen, ■ 

P8be sets out, and sets jn, far the best on the grei^n \ M 
So of all the ^and fleet, my gay vesseFs the Hower, I 
She outsails the whole tote by a knot in an hour* 
7*hen they both sail so cheerfid through life's varying breea 
All hearts with such pilots must be at their ease; ■ 

Thus I've two good protectors to watch me through nfl| 
My good ship tlie Nancy, and Nancy my wife, ■ 

f Then these hands from protecting them who shall debM 

Ne'er ingratitude lurk*d in the heart of a tar; ■ 

I Why, everything female from peril to save I 

pis the noblest distinction that honours the brave* ■ 

While a rag, or a timber, or compass I boast, I 

ril protect the dear creatures against a whole host; I 

Still gratefdl to both to the end of my life, — I 

My good ship the Nancy, and Nancy my wife. I 



AoAiN the willing trump of fame 
Receives from bounteous heaven a claim, 
Around glad nature's sons to call, 
And wake with wonder the terrestrial ball : 
Strike shuddering France and harrow*d Spain 
With Duncan's thunder, and Britannia's reign, 
Confirm'd anew her empire o'er the main. 
Sing, Britons, sing, prizing what fate has given. 
Union, content, and gratitude to heav'n ! 

October the eleventh, at nine, 
Neptune beheld the British line 5 
And, lest his honours, so long worn, 
Should from our ever- conquering flag be torn, 
Dismay to France, horror to Spain, 
Bade Duncan's thunder great Britannia's reign 
Proclaim anew — ^the sovereign of the main ! 
Sing, Britons, sing, &c. 

Fate warr'd on that momentous day, — 
Three hours nine ships saw captured lay ; 
Vain Holland*s dream of power's no more ! 
Her conquer'd fleet shall grace the British shore. 
Droop, fearful France! sink, trembling Spain! 
Duncan, in thunder, great Britannia's reign 
Proclaims anew — ^the sovereign of the main ! 
Sing, Britons, sing, &c. 


Why, Jack, my Bne fellow, here*s glorious news, — 

Lord, I could Have told 'em as Tfiucb, 
That the devil Ijimsdf durst iiot stand in their shous, , 

If Duncan fell in with the Do tch ! 
What heart in the kingdom can now feel dismay? 

Nine sail of the line 1 not amiss : 
While they shrug up thetr shoulders and snuff it awaji 

How the Mounseers will jabber at this! 
Nal while English bosoms boast English hearts. 

Well tip 'em all a round touchy 
While with ardour each starts that nothing can quenehi 
Well bang the Spaniards, 
Belal>our the Dutch, 
And block up and laugh at the French* 

Now the French, while in harbour so anug and so sly^ 

'Bout their courage they make a fine rout^ 
If they'd have the whole world not helieve it a lie, 

Then, dammcj why don*t they come out ? 
Because^ though they brag that so boldly they feel^ 

They are all of them trembling for fear. 
Lest from B?idport they get such another salt eel 

Aa brave Duncan prepared for Mynheer* 
For whilCi &c* 

Let French, Spanish, and Dutch, lay together their 1 

And of beating the English brag. 
That they 11 sail up the Thames, take ua all in our 1 

And hoist on the Tower their flag* 


** Oui, oui," cries Mounseer, " Si, Signer," says the Don, 
Mynheer smokes his pipe and cries " Yawj" 

But when Jervis, or Duncan, or Bridport come on, 
They are damnably sick in the craw. 
No, while, &c. 

Your true honest maxim I've heard 'em commend 

Is the nation you live in to sing; 
Where your property, children, your wife, and your friend, 

Are the care of their father the king. 
The man, then, so blest, who disseminates strife, 

Deserves, while he sinks in disgrace. 
Neither king to protect him, to love him a wife, 

Nor children to smile in his face. 
No, while, &c. 


I WENT to sea all so fearlessly, 
Broach'd my grog all so carelessly, 
By and by, in a brush, I lost my arm, 

Tol de rol, de rol de ri I 

So, says I, 
'Twas well 'twas no worse harm : 
Man's but man, and there's an end ; 

And since 'tis so. 

E'en let it go : 
I ne'er shall lift it 'gainst a friend. 


Next, a squall a tempest led off, 
Enough to blow the devil's head off; 
I got spilt, and that way lost my leg : 

Tol de rol, de rol de ri I 

So, says 1, 
I must now be forced to beg. 
Well, man's but man, that's all I say; 

So in this plight, 

Ifl can't fight, 
For certain I can't run away. 

So, as if Old Nick was in it, 

Something happened every minute, 

Till, at last, poor 1 ! they doused my glims : 

Tol de rol, de rol de ri ! 

So, says I, 
Why, I've lost my eyes and limbs. 
Well, the sails of life by time are furl'd ! 

'Twas fate's decree. 

That I mayn't see 
The treachery of this wicked world. 

Things grew worser still and worser ; 
Fortune, I had cause to curse her ; 
Coming home, I found I'd lost my wife f 

Tol de rol, de rol de ri 1 

So, says I, 
I'd rather lost my life : 
But we're all mortal — she was old ; 

Then why take on? 

If so be she's gone, 
I ne'er again shall hear her scold. 


Now laid up in Greenwich quarter, 
Chatham chest ray right by charter. 
Being old, I've lost all but my tongue . 

Tol de rol, de rol de ri ! 

So, says I, 
*Twas not so when I was young ; 
But, then, says I again, you dunce ' 

Be fear afar 

From every tar ; 
Damme, a man can die but once ! 


Though mountains high the billows roll, 

And angry ocean's in a foam, 
The sailor gaily slings the bowl. 

And thinks on her he left at home : 
Kind love his guardian spirit still. 
His mind's made up, come what come will; 
Tempest may masts to splinters tear. 

Sails and rigging go to rack. 
So she loves him he loves so dear, 
'Tis all one to Jack. 

His friend in limbo should he find, 

His wife and children brought to shame« 

To everything but kindness blind. 
Jack signs his ruin with his name* 

Fnendship tlie worthy motive still, 

Hi& mind^s made apj come what come will ? 

The time comes round, by hell-hoanda presa'di 

Goods, clothes, and person go to rack ; 
But, since he succour VI the distressed, 
"Th all one to Jack. 

Once more at sea prepared to fight, 
A friendly pledge round goes the can ; 

And though large odds appear in sight. 
He meets the danger like a man ; 

Honour his guardian spirit still, 

His mind's inade up, come what come wiL ; 

Like some fierce lion, see him go 
Where horror grim marks tlie attack ! 

So he can save a drowning foe, 
'Tis all one to Jack* 

And when at last (for tars and kings 
Must find in death a peaceful home) 

The shot its sure commission brings. 
And of poor Jack the time is come, — 

Cheerful his duty to fulfil, 

His mind^s made up, come what come with 

The cannon's poised, from its fell jaws 
A fatal shot takes him aback ; 

But since he died m honour's cause, 
'Twas all one to Jack. 



The French are all coming, for so they declare. 

Of their floats and balloons all the papers advise us ; 

They're to swim through the ocean and ride on the air, 

In some foggy evening, to land and surprise us : 

Their army's to come and plant liberty's tree, 

Call'd the army of England, what matchless presumption! 

Let them come ; those who meet not with agues at sea, 

Will on shore first get fevers and then a consumption : 

Poor fools ! by the finger of fate they're invited. 

For our f eedom and laws 

Come on in this cause, 
They no longer are Britons who are not united. 

The old women and children report such strange things 
Of their grand preparations, their routs, and their rackets, 
One army they teU us is furnish'd with wings, 
And another's accoutred, they say, in cork jackets ! 
Well, so much the better : their luck let 'em try ; 
Come here how they will, we shall damnably nim *em : 
'Tent the first time, my lads, yfe have made the French fly ; 
And as for their jackets, we'll curiously trim *em« 
Poor fools, &c. 

Then they'll fasten a rope from the Land's-End to France, 
On which when their wonderful project's grown riper. 
They'll all to the tune of the Carmagnol dance. 
Determined to make Jack Rosbiff pay the piper. 


iut let thern take care we don't come athawt hause.. 
If we should, theyUl just fancy tlie devil has got 'em? 
For they 11 get from their horses so decent a toss, 
That capsized will soon send them a dance to thft botto 
Poor fools, &c» 

fet wlio knows how far their mad liberty scheme 
May succeed ? of man's wroTigs the supposed panacea j 
They have often come here» killed ua all in a dream, 
And afterwards eat us all up^in idea. 
And let 'em dream on that they're cutting our throats, 
Tilh devoted to danger they're little aware on, 
They wake from their sleep, change their flat-bottom^ 

por a voyage o'er the Styx, in the boat of old Charon* 
Poor fools, &c. 

But jesting apart, we their pride must chastise, 
Though we'd no otlier hold on our hearts and our duty! 
Than tlieir insolent boast that they'll seize as their prize. 
In their purse English gold, in thetr arms English beauty. 
English beauty for them 1 The infernals scaled heaven 
That soon hurled to fate their audacious malignity ; 
So shall they J to their fate, by a virtuous frown driven, j 
Own that females of Britain possess British dignity. 
Poor fools, &c. 

Then rouse, Britons, rouse I while this vapourir^ crew 
Are deludhig their own and belying our nation, 
Let us noble, unanimous, loyal, and true^ 
To their folly give pity, their threats indignation. 


Our freedom's not riot, nor uproar run wild, 
'I'o honour, to virtue, to dignity, treason ; 
A rational blessing just, temperate, and mild ; 
The freedom of England's the freedom of reason : 
Poor fools, &c. 


Jack Binnacle met with an old shipmate 

That sail'd with him board of the Thunder, 
And they talk'd of their pranks at a pretty round rate, 

And made all the hearkeners wonder : 
For though brave at sea, when you get him ashore, 
A tar often turns out a ninny. 
For now he must jog, 
His leave's out with his grog ; 
Here, house, what's to pay ? come sport us the score. 

Hand us over the change for a guinea : 
For a sailor's life is a roaring life. 
He laughs while the winds and the waves are at strife, 
So safe on shore 
He can pay his score. 
And sport the splendid guinea. 

The landlord's sweet daughter now comes in his view, 
Up to tars when they get into harbour ; 

Her shoes are morocco, her petticoat's blue. 
Her wig's just come home from the barber: 

Jack stares in her face with a whimsical phiz. 
Reviews her and looks like a ninny. 
For each chalk on his score 
She counts two or more, 
He fix'd on her eyes, while she penetrates his. 

And cheats him ifrhile changing his guinea : 
For a sailor *£ life Is a careless life, 
He sings while the waves and the winds are at strife. 
To be cheated on shore. 
While to pay his score 
He sports the splendid guinea, 

IeTe*s two eighteen-pen'orths, that's five and a kick, — j 

Three pen'orths of *bacco, a shillingp 
For a sixpenny 'bacco-box, quite span and spick, 

Haifa crown, and a tizzy the filling; 
Jack hears not a word, chucks her under the chin,^ 
Lord, how can you be such a ninny ? 
Let me reckon your score, — 
For two sixpen'orths raore^ 
Two hogs and three simons for what's to come in. 

So there's three shillings out of a guinea : 
For a sailor's life is a roaring life, 
le whistles while billows and winds are at strife, 
From the landlords Uong shore, 
For a five-shilling score, 
To get three shillings out of a guinea. 

Well, well, cries out JacTc, you know figures and auch^ 
I daresay you're right. Mistress Moggy ; 

AU my wonderment is that we should tip off so niuch 
Jn the time, and yet never get groggy. 


But no sailor at toss-pot e'er yet play'd amiss. 
Then he's cunning and never a ninny ; 
Come put round the grog, 
For away we must jog, 
So now, my dear girl, if you'll give me a kiss. 
You may pocket your change for a guinea. 
For a sailor's life is a careless life, 
He minds neither billows nor winds at strife. 
But pays his score 
With spirit on shore, 
And that's all the use of a guinea. 


I SAY, my heart, why here's your works ! 

The French have it now with the gravy ; 
Why, what between the English and Turks, 

They'll lose both their army and navy. 
Bold Nelson went out with determinate view 

To keep up our national glory ; 
So of thirteen large ships he left Mounseer but two 

Just to tell the Directory the story. 
Then of England and England's brave tars let us sing, 

As true as the keel to the kelson ! 
Let's be loyal to honour, to truth, and the king. 

And drink to the Navy and Nelson. 

To destroy, bum, and sink, his orders were, 

And by heart he so perfectly got 'em, 
That some he took, some blow'd up in the air. 

And some he sent to the bottom. 

So you see the deapatcbea was easily stowM, 
'Twas no use with a history to charge 'em ; 

He'd occasion for only the old-fashion mode. 
Taken, burnt and destroyed as per marjum. 
Then of England, &c* 

So, Bhip to ship was next the word ; 

Master Brueys, how «weet; they did sarve him 5 
For when a bold Briton sits down to his bird. 

He pretty well knows how to carve him : 
Thus with one of his preeious limbs shot away^ 

Bold Nelson know'd well how to nick *em ; 
So as for the French, 'tis as much as to say 

We can tie up one hand and Hck *em. 
Then of England, &c. 

But with France *tis all up, they are meeting their fatej 

TheyVe thrown down their basket of crockery, 
And vengeance like this will overtake soon or late 

All who make of religion a mockery • 
Then of England, that wonderful country, sing. 

Where we^ve thousands of joy if we need 'em; 
Mild laws that protect us, a Protestant King, 

Lovely women, grog^ biscuit, and freedom- 
Then of England, &-C. 

But while we're about it, let*3 loudly blend 

The names of bold Nelson and Warren, 
And be thankful to heav'n there must soon be an end 

To wars both domestic and foreign* 
While fame shall sing out the glad news with a smile^ I 

Let the thundering roar of our cannon 
Speak our valorous acts, from the moutJi of the Nib, 

All the way to the banks of the Shannon. 



Wht, what's that to you, if ray eyes I'm a wiping? 

A tear is a pleasure, d'ye see, in its way ; 
'Tis nonsense for trifles, I own, to be piping ; 

But they that han't pity, why I pities they. 
Says the captain, says he (1 shall never forget it), 

" If of courage you'd know, lads, the true from the sham^ 
'Tis a furious lion in battle, so let it. 

But, duty appeased, 'tis in mercy a lamb." 

There was bustling Bob Bounce, for the old one not caring, 

Helter skelter, to work, pelt away, cut and drive ; 
Swearing he, for his part, had no notion of sparing, 

And as for a foe, while he'd eat him alive. 
But when that he found an old prisoner he'd wounded. 

That once saved his life as near drowning he swam. 
The lion was tamed, and, with pity confounded. 

He cried over him just all as one as a lamb. 

That my friend Jack or Tom I should rescue from danger. 

Or lay ray life down for each lad in the mess. 
Is nothing at all, — 'tis the poor wounded stranger. 

And the poorer the more I shall succour distress : 
For however their duty bold tars may delight in. 

And r)eril defy, as a bugbear, a flam. 
Though the lion may feel surly pleasure in fighting. 

He'll feel more by compassion when turned to a lamb. 

The heart and the eyes, you see, fed the same motion. 

And if both shed their drops, 'tis all to tlie same end ;■ 
And thus 'tis that every tight lad of the ocean 

Sheds his blood for his countryj hi 3 tears for his friend* 
Jf ray maxira*B disease, 'tis disease I shall die on, — 

You may snigger and titter, 1 don't care a daraa 1 
In me let tlie foe feel the paw of lion. 

But, the battle once ended, the heart of a lamb* 


Whsk once the din of war's begun 

That heroes so delight in, 
Armies are conquered, cities won, 

By bloodshed and brave fighting. 
The trumpet soiinds I the coltimns march, 

Friends from dear friends are sunder'd^ 
Prepared is the triumphal arch. 

And the fallen foe are plunder'd. 
All this, I own, deserves the namet 
And truly in the rolls of fame 

Portrays a marking feature ; 
Yet give me bravery from the heart, 
From self divested and apart, 

Exceeding mortal nature, 
That rushes through devouring waveSj 
And like a guardian angel, saves 

A sinking fellow* creature* 


In equal balance to maintain 

The barriers of each nation, 
Thus ever did stem Fate ordain 

Slaughter should thin creation. 
The trumpet sounds ! his native land 

Each tries to save from slavery ! 
While in the contest, hand in hand, 

Walk clemency and bravery. 
All this I own deserves a name, 
And stands in the records of fame 

A truly marking feature : 
Yet give me bravery from the heart, 
From self divested, and apart. 

Type of celestial nature, 
That rushes, &c. 


You ask how it comes that I sing about Nancy 

For ever, yet find something new ; 
As well may you ask why delight fills the fancy 

When land first app(*ars to the crew. 
When, safe from the toils of the perilous ocean. 

In each heart thanks of gratitude spring : 
Feel this, and you'll have of my joy a faint notion 

When with rapture of Nancy I sing. 

You and I nature's beauties have seen the world over, 
• Yet never knew which to prefer; 
Then why should you wonder that I am no rover, 
Since I see all those beauties in her ? 


hj, youll find aliout ships all you've known and 


On their different bearings to bring ; 
Though they all make their ports, they all vary in steering, 
So do I when of Nancy I jjing* 

Could a 3hip round the world, wind and weather permitliii 

A thousand times go and conie back. 
The ocean*s so spacious 'tw^ould never be hitting, 

For leagues upon leagues the saiue tack : 
So her charms are so numerous, so various^ ao clarer, 

They produce in my mind such a string, 
That, my tongue once let loose, 1 could sing on for everi 

And vary the oftener I sijig. 

Shall I tell you the secret? youVe but to love truly. 

Own a heart that in the right place is hung ; 
And just as t!ie prow to the helm answers duly, 

That heart will lend words to the tongue* 
No art do I boast of, no skill I inherit, 

Then do not of my praises ring ; 
But to love and to n situ re allow all the merit 

That taught me of Nancy to sing. 


Oi* aU the livefs I ever liv'd, 

A sailor"? Hfe for 1; 
Hap what !iap may, he's never griey'd^ 

But works and bungs hia eye 


'I'o do his duty never loth, 

In danger's face he*ll fly, 
Though certain sure to get popp'd off, 

Tol de liddle liddle tol tol lol tol diddle liddle 
liddle li. 

Why, when to hand that sail we'd got 

All shiver'd by the foe, 
Scarce up alofl, a second shot 

Mast, yards, and all laid low. 
At the risk of every precious neck, 

By the run we corned, but I 
Only broke my arm against the deck, 

Tol di riddle, &c. 

Now there when I left Poll ashore, 

Well stored with togs and gold, 
And went to sea to fight for more, 

A jolly tar and bold, 
A wounded prisoner soon I lay, 

In a dismal plight was I ; 
Comed home, I found Poll flow'd away» 

Tol di riddle, &c. 

Then, when my precious leg they lopp'd. 

Just for a bit of fun, 
I took it up, on t'other hopp*d, 

And ramm'd it in a gun. 
What's that for ? cries my messmate Dick ; 

What for, you fool ! said I ; 
Why, to give Mounseer another kick ! 

Tol di riddle, &c. 

I owns this crazy hull of mine 

At sea has had its share ; 
Shipwreck*d three times, and wounded nine^ 

Acd blow'd up iQ tbe air ! 
But aomebody must pay the coat,— ^ 

IVe yet tny leg and eye: 
The rest I for my country lost^ 

Tol de riddle, Sec, 



SiE the shore lined with gazers^ the tide comes in 1 

The confiision but hear ! bear a hand there^ avast ! 

The blocks and the wedges the mallets obey. 

And the shores and the stanchions are all cut away; 

While with head like a lion, built tight fore and aft, 

Broad amidships^ lean bows^ and taper abaft, 

In contempt of all danger from quicksands and rocka, 

The pride of the ocean is launch'd from the stocks. 

Now the signal is flying, and, fleet in her course. 

She chases a sail, far superior her force ; 

And now the brisk broadside is merrily pour'd, 

And splinters, cut ropes, and masts go by tbe board ; 

Next yard-arm and yard-arm entangled they lie, 

The tars loudly swearing to conquer or die ; 

Till huird and cut up, getting more than she likes, 

To the pride of the ocean the enemy sErike«, 


The prize is sent home, and, alert in a trice, 

They make gaskets and points, and they knot and they 

splice ; 
While knowing Jack tars of their gallantry talk, 
Tell who served well, Boscawen, and Anson, and Hawke ; 
Till, all of a sudden, a calm, then a scud, 
A tempest brings on, that the face of the flood 
The thunder and lightning and wind so deform, 
The pride of the ocean scarce lives out the storm. 

And now having nobly defended the cause 

Of the nation, of freedom, religion, and laws, 

Her timbers all crazy, all open her seams, 

Tom and wounded her planks, and quite rotten her beams. 

To the last humbly fated her country to aid. 

Near the very same slip where her keel was first laid. 

No trace of her rate but her ports and her bulk. 

The pride of the ocean's cut down a sheer hulk. 


Let swabs with their wows, their palaver, and lies, 

Sly flattery's silk sails still be trimming. 
Swear their Polls be all angels dropp'd down from the 
skies, — 

I your angels don't like, — I loves women. 
I loves a warm heart and a sweet honest mind. 

Good as truth, and as lively as fancy ; 
As constant as honour, as tenderness kind ; 

In short I loves Nature and Nancy. 

I read in a soTig about Wenusi I iLinks« 

All rtggM out with "her Cupids and Graces ; 
And Iiow roses and lilies^ carnations and pinksi 

Was made paint to daub over their faces, 
Tbey that loyes it may talte all such art for their pains,—] 

For mine 'tis another guess fancy ; 
Give me the rich healthy flesh and blood, and blue ^e iit» 

That pays the aweet face of my Nancy* 

Why, I went to the play, where they talk*d well at le 

As to act all their parts they were trying ; 
They were playing at soldiers, and playing at feast, 

And some they was playiiig at dying. 
Let *em hang, drown, or starve, or take poiaon d'ye see, 

All juat for their gig and their fancy ; 
What to them was but jest ia right earnest to me^ 

For I live and I'd die for ray Nancy, 

Let the girls then, like so many Algerine Turks, 

Dash away, a fine gay -painted galley, 
With their Jacks and their pennants and gingerl 

All for show and just nothing for value, — 
False colours throw ouU deck'd by labour and art* 

To take of pert coxcombs the fancy ; 
Tliey are all for the person, I*m all for the hearty — 

In short, Vm for Nature and Nancy: 



My love's a vessel trim and gay, 

Rigg'd out with truth and stored by honour ; 
As through life's sea she cuts her way, 

All eyes with rapture gaze upon her : 
Built every wondering heart to please, — 

The lucky shipwrights Love and Fancy ; 
From stem to stem she moves with ease. 

And at her launch they call'd her Nancy. 

When bearing up against life's gales. 

So well she stems the dangerous trouble, 
I call her Anna, — as she sails, 

Her form's so grand, her air's so noble. - 
When o'er the trembling wave she flies. 

That plays and sports as she advances. 
Well said, my Nan ! I fondly cries. 

As my full heart in concert dances. 

In studding sails before life's breeze 

So sweetly gentle is her motion. 
She's Anne, — for as she moves with ease. 

She seems the queen of all the ocean. 
But when on Sundays rigg'd in stays, 

Like beauty gay and light as fancy. 
She wins my heart a thousand ways ; 

I then delight to call her Nancy. 

ben laying on a tack so neat, 

The breeze lier milk-white bosom filling, 
She skima the yielding waves so Beet, 

I call her Nance, my bosom thrilling; 
Thus is she precious to my heart. 

By whate'er name comes o*er my fancy : 
Graceful or gay, grand, neat, or smart, 

Or Anna, Anne, Nan, Najice* or Nancy. 


We tars are alL for fun and glee, — 

A hornpipe was my notion; 
Time was Td dance with any he 

That sails the salt sea ocean ; 
rd lip the roll, the slide, the reel, 

Backt forward, in the midlde ; 
And roast the pig, and toe and heel, 

All going with the fiddle ; 
Bnt one day told a shot to ram, 

To chase the foe advancing, 
A splinter queer 'd my larboard gan^ 

And, damme, spoilt my dancing. 

Well, I*m, says I, no churlish elf; 
We messmates be all brothers; 

Though 1 can^t have no fun myself, 
I may make fun for others, 

A fiddle soon I made my own* 

That girls and tars might caper, — 

Learnt Rule Britannia, Bobbing Joaot 
And grovv'd a decent scraper 


But just as rd the knack on't got» 

And did it pretty middling, 
I lost my elbow by a shot, 

And, damme, spoilt my fiddling. 

So sometimes, as I tum'd my quid, 

I got a knack of thinking 
As I should be an inwalid, 

And then I took to drinking. 
One day called down my gun to maa, 

To tip it with the gravy, 
I gave three cheers, and took the can 

To drink the British Navy: 
Before a single drop I'd sipp'd, 

Or got it to my muzzle, 
A langridge off my daddle whipped. 

And, damme, spilt the guzzle. 

So then I took to taking snuff, 

'Cause how my sorrows doubled ; 
And pretty pastime 'twas enough, 

D'ye see, when I was troubled : 
But Fortune, that mischievous elf, 

Still at some fun or other,— 
Not that I minds it for myself. 

But just for Poll and mother, — 
One day, while lying on a tack. 

To keep two spanking foes off, 
A broadside comes, capsizes Jack, 

And, damme, knocks my nose off. 

So in misfortune's school grown tough,- 
In this same sort of knowledge. 

Thinking, mayhap, I'd not enough, 
They seat me here to cqWegi^, 

And bcre we tell old tales and amoltep 

And laugh while we are drinking; 
Sailors, you know, will havp their joke^ 

E'en though the ship were sinking. 
For 1> while T get grog to drink 

My wife^ ray friend, or king in, 
^ Twill be no easy thing, I think, 

Damme J to spoil my singing. 


If the good old maxim's true, 

That sons of Eve should all be brothers, 
Tars have it to their hearts in Ttew, 

For their first good's the gootl of others 
Nay, Jack sueh narrow love derides, 

'Midst every danger still contentedi 
He the whole family provides 

With every gootl that Heaven invented; 
And leaving caution to the windi 
Risks every chance to serve mankindp 

Away to India, cries the fair } 

To Beauty's voice obedient listen 
The vessel cuts the yielding air. 

And muslins wave^ and diamonds glisten 
Should winter, in its bleak array, 

With chilling frosts and winds alarm her, 
Jack points the prow to Hudson's Bay, 

And eomt-'ly furs both deck and warm her 
And gaily leaving care behind, 
if ansae ks the world to ^etve mBukvT^ 




Would cits the rich, voluptuous treat,-— 

Amidst the bustle and the hurry, 
To make the bill of fare complete, 

Jack brings the turtle and the curry : 
He fetches tea for maiden aunts. 

Finery and fashions for our spouses^ 
Feeds, clothes us, and supplies our wants, 

And even furnishes our houses : 
What thanks for those, then, shall we find. 
Who thus adventure for mankind ? 

Then be the friendly toast we pass. 

As honest hearts and Nature's freemen,—* 
Excluding daylight from the glass, — 

Prosperity to English seamen ! 
On danger's brink who careless found. 

For others make their lives a slavery; 
The very wine that now goes round 

We owe to their adventurous bravery. 
Then, drink to those, with grateful mind, 
Who risk their lives to serve mankind. 


Since fate of sailors hourly varies, 

Lest doubts should wound my anxious breast, 
This pretty bird from the Canaries 

Jack brought, to set my heart at rest: 

His life is charm *d, and when with sadnessi | 
Cried he. Ins notes he mournful gives, 
Then cherish care, 
Indulge despair ; 
But sweetly, if they thrill with gladnessj 
Rejoice and know your lover lives i 
Attentive mark 1 
Hark! harkl 
Rejoicej and know your lover livea. 

Each hour, while my poor bosom flatters, 

Rdyifig on my lover's word. 
Anxious to hear the song he utters, 

I listen to my pretty bird ; 
But thanks to Heaven, never with sadness 
Has he yet mourn'd | even now he gives 
(To silence care, and chase desp^r) 
His sprightly notes with joy and gladness | 
And thus 1 know my lover lives i 
Attentive mark! 
Hark I hark 1 
*Tis thus I know my lover lives. 

But see, he*s fie re ! my heart's contented ; 
Sweet warbler, truly didst thou speak. 
Dear love, cried Jack, 'twas all invented, 

Lest thy poor heart my fate might break. 
Love taught the cheat to cheer thy sadness, 
And cheats of love true love forgives ; 
This anxtons care 
Heal'd thy despair; 
Birds always sing witli joy and gladness ; 


Thy love to thee and honour lives: 

Attentive mark ! 

Hark! hark! 
Thy love to thee and honour lives. 


Though forward stands the soldier's Qanie» 

*Midst prospects rude and steril, 
To where high towers the fane of fame, 

The steps are toil and peril. 
How keen the pang when friends must part. 

Fierce glory's fire suspending 1 
An angel wife pours out that heart 

Which killing fears are rending. 

But vain are sympathetic sighs, 

Uplifted hands, and streaming eyes. 
Beckon'd by fate, behold the bands. 

The drums at distance rattle. 
Hark ! the charge : 'tis honour command)^— 

The trumpets sound to battle. 

Death's work's begim ; in h<Miour'a bed 

Promiscuous heaps are lying ; 
Appaird the living, and the dead 

Lamented by the dying ; 
While memory added torture gives, 

1 hat tenderest thoughts awaken. 
See groups of mothers, children, wives, 

By feeble hope forsaken. 

But vain are sympathetic sigbs^ 
Imploring hands, and streaming eyes: 
Again appear the martial bands. 
The drums at distance rattle, &c* 

A vaunt, grim war! sweet peace is oufs,-" 

The hero's noblest capture \ 
Joy gaily leads the dancing hours, 

And misery^s lost in rapture. 
Beneath her horn gay Plenty bends^ 

Proud bards record the qnarrel, 
And in her temple Fame attends 

To place the well -earned laurel* 

Yet but in trust he holds this meed; 

For should his aid hia country need. 
Then shall he cry, Draw out the bands 

When drums at distance rattle, &<;• 


A VOYAGE at sea and all its strife. 

Its pleasure and its pain, 
At every point resembles life, — 

Hard work for little gain* 
The an chords weigh *d, smooth is the floods 

Serene seems every foraii 
But soon, alas ! comes on the scud 

That speaks the threatening storm. 
The towering masls in splinters shivering! 
The useless sails In tatters quivering I 
Thunder rolling, lightning flashing. 
Waves in horrid tumult dashing 


Foam along the dreary shore : 
Still, while tars sit round so jolly, 
The sprightly flute calls care a folly, 
Aloft, alow, afloat, aground. 
Let but the smiling grog go round, 

And storms are heard no more. 

The voyage through life is various foundi 

The wind is seldom fair ; 
Though to the straits of pleasure bound. 

Too oft we touch at care. 
Impervious danger we explore; 

False friends, some faithless she : 
Pirates and sharks are found ashore 

As often as at sea. 
A lowering storm from envy brewing. 
Shall at a distance menace ruin ; 
While slander, malice, and detraction, 
A host of fiends shall bring in action, 

And plant care's thorns at every pore. 
Yet, roused to sweet domestic duty, 
Some manly imp, or infant beauty, 
Clings round his neck or climbs his knees,— 
Each thorn's pluck'd out, pain's turned to ease^ 

And storms are heard no more. 

The ship towers gaily on the main, 

To fight its country's cause. 
And bid the obedient world maintain 

^ts honours and its laws. 
Nor from surrounding danger shrinks 

Till, sacrifice to fame. 
Death dealing round, she nobly sinks 

Only to live in name. 

And so the in an, — ^his ample measorfi, 
Frird wkh alternate pain and pleasure, 
Till, long in age and bonou? living, 
Lile*s strength worn out, a lesson giving 

To those he leaves his well-got store. 
Mild hope and resignation greeting. 
The plsyful soul, in circles fleeting. 
Makes onward to its native skies, 
While gasping nature pants and dies, 

And stomis are heard no more. 


At Wapping I landedj and called to hail Mog ; 

She had just shaped her course to the play: 
Of two rums and one water I order'd my grog^ 

And to speak her soon stood under v. ay. 
But the Haymarket I for Old Drury mistook, 

Like a lubber so raw and so sofl» 
Haifa George handed out, at the change did not look," 

Mann*d the raflins, and went up aloft^ 

As I mounted to one of the uppermost tiers, 

With many a coxcomb and fltrt. 
Such a datnnable squalling saluted my ears, 

I thought there^d been somebody hurt ; 
But the devil a bit — *twas your outlandish rips 

Singing out with their lanterns of jaws ; 
You'd a swor'd you'd been taking of one of they trij 

Molest the Cafires or wiJd Catabaws, 


What's the play, Ma'am ? says I, to a good-natured tit. 

The play ! 'tis the uproar you quiz. 
My timbers, cried I, the right name on't you've hit, 

For the devil an uproar it is. 
For they pipe and they squeal, now alow, now aloft; 

If it wa'nt for the petticoat gear. 
With their squeaking so moUyish, tender, and soft, 

One should scarcely know ma'am from mounseer. 

Next at kicking and dancing they took a long spell, 

All springing and bounding so neat, 
And spessiously one curious Madamaselle, — 

Oh, she daintily handled her feet. 
But she hopp'd, and she sprawl'd, and she spun round so 

'Twas, you see, rather oddish to me; 
And so I sung out. Pray be decent, my dear; 

Consider I'm just come from sea. 

'Tain't an Englishman's taste to have none of these goes, 

So away to the playhouse I'll jog. 
Leaving all your fine Bantums and Ma'am Parisoes, 

For old Billy Shakspeare and Mog. 
So I made for the theatre, and hail'd my dear spouse ; 

She smiled as she saw'd me approach ; 
And, when I'd shook hands and saluted her bows» 

We to Wapping set sail in a coach. 


Now that war has, in human distress, done its best ; 
Now that glutted with mischief, fell slaugliters at res^ 
Now thiit smiling content crowns the peasant^s clean boar^ 
And the industrious ploughshare takes place of the a word j 
In this season what care oVr the fancy shall brood? 
What sigh press for vent, or what tear sh.^ll intrude t 
Ab ! indulge and reflect on each glorious grave 
A fiigh and a tear to the manes of tlie brave- 
Now that loud acclamations expand through the air. 
And the brows of the brave are adorn*d by the fair ; 
Now that bands of musicians so gaily advance. 
In the concert to join or enliven the dance;; 
At one grateful idea the tumult shall end, 
The soft Hute the sad cadence alone shall suspend [ 
And, while fancy leack on to the cold hallow*d grave 
Shall echo a sigh to the manes of the brave. 

Proud award of those heroes for glory who burn, 
Alike nobly honourM the arch and the urn ; 
Surviving, or dying, such fame who achieve, 
T IS joy to regret, and *tis pleasure to grieve* 
Then our rapturous bosoms let gratitude swe)l, 
While those sons of renown^ who so gloriously fell, 
Shall from heav'n cheer those mourners who throng 

each grave, 
And dry up their tears for the manes of the brave. 



Dp from a loblolly-boy none was so 'cute, 

Of knowing things most sort I follard? 
Ben Binnacle learn'd me to read and dispute, 

For Ben was a bit of a schollard. 
Of the whole criss-cross row I in time know*d the worth 5 

But the dear letter N for my fancy ; 
For N stands for nature, and noble, and north, 

Neat, nimble, nine, nineteen, and Nancy. 

She soon was my wife, and I saiFd round the world, 

To get prize-money where I could forage ; 
And for love, wheresoever our Jack was unfurl'd, 

I daunted them all with my courage : 
For I now read in books about heroes and fame, 

And for all sorts of rows got a fancy ; 
Sticking still to dear N, for N stands for name, 

Note, novel, neck, nothing, and Nancy. 

In the midst of this bustle I lost my poor friend. 

And each object around me grew hateful ; 
For I know*d not false heart with a fair face to blend, 

Nor had laming yet made me ungrateful. 
I liked my friend well, and deplored him ;— what then ? 

My wife was the first in my fancy ; 
For, though B stands for buck, brother, bottom, and Ben, 

Yet N stands for needle and Nancy. 


Well, Vve weather'd life's storms, and till laid a sheei 

Will my absence again never shock her ; 
Thanks to Fortune, at sea iVe no need to break bu 

For £Ve plenty of shot in the locker. 
Our kids play around us, and still to pursue 

The letter so dear to my fancy, 
Though nineteen twice told, noona and nights but re new, , 

The nice natty notion of Nancy. 


I WKS saying to Jack, as we talked t'other day 

About lubbers and snivelling elves, 
That if people in life did not steer the right way, 

They had nothing to thank but themselves, 
Nowp when a man^s caught by those mermaids the girl% 

With iheir flattering palaver and smiles, 
He runs, while he's listening to their fal de rals, 

Bump ashore on the Scilly Isles 
Thus in steering in life, as in steering with us. 

To one course in your conduct reaort, — 
In foul winds^ leaving lu£P and no near, keep her thv 
In honour's line ready > 
When fair, keep her steady, 

And neither to starboard incline nor to port^ 

If he's true in his dealings, life's wind to defy, 

And the helm has a trim and right scope^ 

Not luffing, but keeping the ship full and by, 

He may weather the Cape of Good Hope 


But if he steers wide in temptation's high sea. 
And to pleasure gives too much head-way, 

Hard a-port goes the helm, the ship's brought by the lee, 
And she founders in Botany Bay. 
Thus in, &c, 

In wedlock so many wrong courses are made, 

They part convoy so oil and so fast, 
Till so fond they are grown of that same Guinea-trade, 

Cape Farewell is their anchorage at last. 
Some men, I must own, to be dubb'd may be bom; 

But this, for the wives, I will say, 
They seldom or ever bear down for Cape Horn, 

'Till the husbands hav» show*d* them the way. 
Thus in, &c. 

As to mutinous spirits that through the world roll, 

. If we had 'em aboard, Jack, with we. 
They should make No Man's Land, and skulk through 
Lubber's Hole, 
And at last be laid in the Red Sea ; 
But fine honest fellows, to honour so dear. 

Shall, in this world by nothing perplex'd. 
Of False Bay get to windward, bring up in Cape Clear, 
And bespeak a snug berth in the next. 
Thus in, &c. 


Jack come home, his pockets lined, 
In search of Poll, his only pleasure, 

To Pickle Stairs his course inclined, 
In her fair lap to pour his treasure : 

But scarce arriv'd at famM Rag-fair* 

Where the keen Jew the cbdpole BeeceSi 

His whistle tum'd into a stare 

At ** Come, who*ll buy ray water-creases T* 

He starts and trembles at the sound, 

Which now is heard^ and now obstructed ; 
And now his hopes are all agroundj 

And now *tii to his ear conducted, 
"Zounds!" cried out Jack, ** I kno^r thar pTiix^-^" 

But then, such toga — theyVe all to pieces 1 
Why, it can't be 1 dararae it \s — 

*Tis Poll a-hawltng water-cresses I" 

And now she's in his arms, while he 

Bids her relate fortune's reverses \ 
The world finds faJdiless as the sea. 

And loads false friends, in troups, witll curses 
"They took," cried &he, *'ray very bed; 

The sticks they seiz'd and sold in pieces ; 
So> ta get a bit of honest bread, 

I cries I WhoUl buy my water- cresses f " 

"Still art thou rich, my girl," cried Jack, 

"And still shalt taste each earthly pleasure; 
rhoii'rt true, tliough rags are on thy back. 

And honour. Poll, *s a noble treasure* 
In til is ^ay tog-shop rigg'd so neat, 

111 fortune from this moment ceaseii" 
This said, he scattered in the street 

Basket and rags, and waterereAies* 



either eye a lingering tear, 

His love and duty well to prove, 

ack lefl his wife and children dear, 

ImpelPd by honour and by love ; 

And as he loiter'd, wrapp'd in care, 

A sapling in his hand he bore. 
Curiously carv*d, in letters fair — 
" Love me ; ah, love me ever more !*' 

At leisure to behold his worth, 

Tokens, and rings, and broken gold, 
He plung'd the sapling firm in earth. 

And o'er and o'er his treasure told; 
The letters spelt, the kindness traced. 

And all affection's precious store, 
Each with the favourite motto graced— 

" Love me ; ah, love me, evermore !" 

While on this anxious task employ'd, 

Tender remembrance all his care, 
His ears are suddenly annoy 'd, 

The boatswain's whistle cleaves the air : 
'Tis duty calls, his nerves are braced. 

He rushes to the crowded shore, 
Leaving the sapling in his haste, 

That bids him love for evermore. 

The magic branch thus unreclaim'd. 
Far off at sea, no comfort near. 

His thoughtless haste he loudly blamed 
With many a sigh and manv a tear: 

Yet why act this unmanly part? 

The words the precious relic bore. 
Are they not inark*d upou my heart? — 

" Love me ; ah» love me, evermore 1" 

E^cap'd from treacherous waves and winds, 

That three years he had felt at sea, 
A wondrous miracle he fiods, — 

The sapling is become a tree! 
A goodly head that graceful rears, 

Enlarged the trunkj enlarged t!ie corei 
And on the rind^ enlarged, appears 

"Love me; ah, love me, evermore I^ 

While gazing on the spell-!ike charms 

Of this most wonderful of trees, 
His Nancy rushes to his arms. 

His children cling about his knees. 
Increased in lave, increased in size, 

Taught from the mother's tender store^ 
Each little urchin, lisping, cries, 

" Love me ; ah, love me, evermore 1" 

Amazement seized the admiring crowd; 

** My children,'* cried a village seer, 
** These signs, though mute, declare almid 

The hand of Providence is here^ 
Whose hidden, yet whose sure decrees 

For those its succour who implore^ 
Can still the tempest^ level seas. 

And crown tiue love ibr evermore." 



When to weigh the hoatswain's calliiig« 
The tops all mann'd, 
The fading land, 
Throng'd with hearty friends appears ; 
Then the sailor, though on duty, 
Seeks fondly for some distant beauty, 
Whose token on his heart he wears ; 
Nor can his moisten'd eye withdraw : 
But rous*d, his courage overhauling. 
The grog goes round. 
He hails the sound. 
The toast — a prosperous voyage — ^three cheers I 
And jolly tars sing out Houraw ! 

When lightening, winds, and waves are jarring, 
And madly rove. 
Enough to move 
Aught but a British seaman's fears ; 
Then the tar, on duty flying. 
The yards, the shrouds, the pump is plying — 
Belay, cast off tacks, halliards, gears. 
Watches each cranny and each flaw : 
But ceas*d this elemental warring. 
The grog goes round. 
He hails the sound ; 
The toast — Great Britain's fleets — three cheers I 
And jolly tars sing out Houraw 1 


When the wild tumultuous battle. 
With horrid roar 
Laves decks with gore — 
When ranks the raking broadside cleani— - 
The tar, his country *s cause espousing, 
Feels in his veins the lion rousing ; 
And as he Freedom's standard rearS| 
He gorges Death's insatiate mawr : 
But, queird the foe, ceas*d the loud rattle, 
The grog goes round, 
He hails the sounds 
The toast — humanity— tbree cheers ! 
And jolly tars sing out Houraw I 

But when^ his variaus perils ended, 
He views tlie shore. 
All hands to moor 
With more than mortal bliss he hears^ 
A heaven on earth the sailor fancies, 
Haih little Toms, and litde Naudes, 
And realissed he feels and hears 
Her truth he in his dreams foresaw. 
To fate thus grateful, thus befriended. 
The grog goes round, 
All hail the sound; 
The toast — Jack's welcome honie<^lltree cheers t 
And jolly tars sing out Houraw 1 



Up the Mediterranin, 

One day was explaining 
The chaplain and I about poets and bards ; 

For I'm pretty discarning 

And loves about laming 
To know, and all notions that such things regards : 
Then to hear him sing out 'bout the islands around, 
Tell their outlandish names, call them all classic ground^ 
Where the old ancient poets all formerly mess'd, 
And wrote about love and the girls they caress'd ; 
Swore they thought *em all goddesses, creatures divine ;•— » 
I thinks that he said each old gemman had nine. 

Cried I, Well said, old ones I 

These poets were bold ones ; 
But everything's vanity under the sun : 

Love's as good sport as any; 

But nine's eight too many ; — 
I have one worth all nine, and my Nancy's that one* 

Then we read for their wishes, 

They turn'd to queer fishes. 
To cocks and to bulls, in some verses they call, 

Ovid Metaramorphus, 

And one Mr. Orphus 
Went to hell for his wife — but that's nothing at all. 
Some figary each hour set these codgers agog; 
Old Nackron swigg'd off his allowance of grog ; 
Master Jove had his fancies and fine falderals, — 
What a devil that god was for following the girls 1 



But what makea the curiseat part of their lives, 
They were always a-chasing of other men's wives. 

What nonsense and folly I 

*rii quite melancholy 
That a man can*t be bless*d till his neighbour's undone^ 

Why^ *tis wicked to ax ut«, 

Take the whole worlds that's ray raaxurn, 
o one be left me, and my Nancy that one* 

Then we*d hot work between ua 

'Bout Graces and Wenus, 
With their fine red and white, and their eyes full of darts: 

To be sure pretty faces 

Be well in their places. 
But, your reverence^ in love there be such tilings as heart* 
'Tis unmanly to chatter behind people^s back, 
But 'tis pretty well known that the lady's a crack ; 
Besides, if these things 'bout beauty be true, 
That there is but one Wenus, why, I says there*s two. 
Say there is but one Nancy, youUl then not mistake, 
For she's mine and Vd sail the world round for her j 

Then no further no rations, 

Or chatterifi cations, 
*Bout Wenus, and Graces, and such pretty fun, 

That BO runs in your fancy ;-— ^ 

Just see but my Nancy, 
You^ll find all their charma spliced together in oim^* 



'T WAS ail how and about and concerning the war^ 

And the glory of Britain's hold navy, 
And the different brushes, and what 'twas all for, 
That the whistle of Fanie has Bung out sea and^ shore: 
For when British buU-dogs begia for to roar, 

French, and Spaniards, and Dutch, cry peccavi. 

For the war how it happened, and what 'twas about, 

That's nothing to we — tars must do what they're bid ; 
So all I can tell you, the war once broke out, 

They told us to lick 'em, and lick 'em we did* 
As to order and such, you don*t get that from me ; 

I shall just as they come, speak of actions that's pasfT 
So they did us but honour, as lords of the sea. 

It don't matter a damn which came first or which last. 

Why, now, there was Howe and the glorious first of 
June J then there was Jar vis when he beat the Spaniards 
fi^en to twenty-seven ; Dnncan with his hard blows with 
ihe Dutch; Nelson and the Nile^ but lud ^tis nonsense 
lo tell you about the grand affairs. Our great grand- 
children and their great grandchildren will read about it» 
I you knowy in almanacs and things, just as people read of 
the hard frost and the fire of London. It is the ne^t little 
brushes that I intends to talk to you about* There was 
Pellew and the Hamphin; don^t you remember pegging 
away at that seventy- four, just for all the world like two 
schoolboys licking a great hulking fellow? Then there 
waa Fawkener— who would not have died like Fawt^isax^ 

«— and then there was Cooke, m the East Indies? he 
noblyi too; damme if I would not as soon be Coolee as 
Fawkcnerl But avast, avast! there was another brave 
felloW|- — indeed, there was plenty of brave fellows if that 
was all, — but I mean Hood in the Mars; just saw the 
nereides strike, and died. Hollo! zoimdsf I Bhall 
jtwabhing my hows if 1 go on at this rate ! Stay , whi 
was there else? Oh, there was the brush with the La 
Pomone ; and then, yon know. Sir Sidney, he did some 
neat things ; and then there was Trollope in the Gtatton, 
and there was, you know, there was, — damme if I know 
what there was, but 

'Twas all how, &c^ 

As to me I ain*t leam'd, for 1 can*t read or write : 

But what's writing or reading, or any such arts ? 
To find their due praise for their country that fight 

We must read from our memories whales writ on 
Kot that heroes e'er hragj or for flattery sue, — 

True bravery was never yet known to be vain ; 
And the thanks and the honours so nobly their due, 

By deeds, not by words, gallant Britons obtain. 

Why, what could be so glorious^ you know, as Pellew, 
Hien he took the Cleopatrai boartJed her, and struck her 
colours ? Then tlicre was Saumarez, off Cherbourg, took 
the Reunion, killed and wounded a hundred and twenty^ 
without the Joss of a single British seaman. Both knighted 
and barrow-knighted ; that*s right; some sense to fight 
for a country like this. In short, we worked them ; we 
took Neptune, and Fortune, and Victory: but, for the 


matter of that, we had all this on our side before. Then 
we took Liberty— that was just bringing coals to New- 
castle, you know ; Glory, ditto, repeated ; after that, we 
took Immortality, but they did not care much about that; 
\nd then, at last, we took their Constitution, That was 
jonsense— we had a good constitution of our own. Then 
l^e took Resistance, and Freedom, and Fame, and Con- 
gord,^-damme, we took almost everything from them, but 
the perlarver, and that they are welcome to : well then, 
we took all the saints from the Spaniards, and then, we 
took from the Dutch — I don*t know what the devil we 
took from the Dutch, with their cursed hard names, but 

'Twas all how and about and concerning the war. 

And the glory of Britain's bold navy ; 
And the different brushes, and what 'twas all for, 
That the whistle of Fame has sung out sea and shore ; 
For, when British bull-dogs begin for to roar, 

The prettiest shall soon cry peccavi. 


Would you hear a sad story of woe. 

That tears from a stone might provoke ? 
*Tis concerning a tar you must know. 

As honest as e'er biscuit broke : 
His name was Ben Block, of all men 

The most true, the most kind, the most brave ; 
But harsh-treated by fortune, — for Ben 

In his prime found a watery grave. 

His place no one eier knew mora; 

His heart was all kindneas and loye; 
Though ojfi duty an eagle he*d soar, 

His nature had most of the dove* 
Ha lov^d a fair maiden named Kate ; 

Hia father, to interest a alave. 
Sent him far from hia love, where hard fate 

Plunged him deep in a watery grave^ 

A curse on all slanderous tongues ! — 

A false friend his mild nature abused, 
And sweet Kate, of the vilest of wrongs, 

To poison Ben*s pleasure, accused :— 
That she never had truly been kind ; 

That false were the tokens she gave | 
That she scorn'd him* and wish'd lie might find 

In the ocean a watery grave. 

Too sure from this cankerous elf 

The venom accomplished its end : 
Ben^ all truth and honour himself, 

Suspt'Ctcd no fraud of his friend. 
On the yard while suspended in air, 

A loose to hia sorrows he gave,^ 
"Take thy wish," he cried, '* false, cruel feirT 

And plunged in a watery ^rave*. 


[The last Song written by Mr. Dibdin.] 

The moon on the ocean, was dimm'd by a ripplct 

Affording a chequer'd delight, 
The gay jolly tars pass'd the word for the tipple, 

And the toast, for 'twas Saturday night : 
Some sweetheart or wife that he loved as his life 

Each drank while he wish'd he could hail her; 
But the standing toast that pleased the most 

Was— The wind that blows, the ship that goes, 
And the lass that loves a sailor I 

Some drank the king and his brave ships, 

And some the constitution. 
Some, May our foes and all such rips 

Own English resolution ! 
That fate might bless some Poll or Bess, 

And that they soon might hail her ; 
But the standing toast, &c. 

Some drank our queen, and some our lanop 

Our glorious land of freedom I 
Some that our tars might never stand 

For heroes brave to lead *em ! 
That beauty in distress might find 

Such friends as ne'er would fiil her ; 
But the standing toast, &c. 



ThiSi this, my la^, 's a soldier'a lifei-^ 
He marches to tlje ^prigMly fife. 
And in each town to some new wife 

Swears he*ll be ever true; 
He's here — he*s there — where is he not^ 
Variety's his envied lot, 
He eat3, drinks, sleeps^ and pays no shot. 

And follows the load tattoo, 

Called om to face his country's foes, 
The tears of fond domestic woes 
He kisses off^ and boldly goes 

To earn of fame his due. 
Religion, liberty J and laws, 
Both his are, and his country's cause — 
For these, through danger, without pau£e« 

He follows the loud tattoo* 

And if, at last, in honour's wars 
He earns his share of danger's scars, 
Still he feels bold, and thanks his starii 

He*s no worse fate to rue : 
At Chelsea free from toil and pain^ 
He wields his crutch, points out tlie slain, 
Andi in fond fancy, once again 

Follows the loud tattoo, 


What is glory,— what is fame? 

That a shadow, this a name, 
Restless mortals to deceive. 

Are they renown'd— can they be great,— 

Who hurl their fellow creatures' fate, 
That mothers, children, wives, may grieve 7 

Ask smiling honour to proclaim 

What is glory, what is fame ; 
Hark ! the glad mandate strikes the listening ear,^« 
" The truest glory to the bosom dear 
Is when the soul starts soft compassion's tear." 

What are riches, pomp, and power ? 

Gewgaws that endure their hour, 
Wretched mortals to allure. 

Can greatness reach the idly vaiD, 

Indulging in the princely fane, 
Deaf to the miseries of the poor ? 

Ask smiling reason to proclaim 

What is glory, what is fame ; 
Hark ! the sweet mandate strikes the listening ear,— • 
" The truest glory to the bosom dear 
Is when the soul starts soil compassion's tear." 


I, THAT once was a ploughman, a sailor am now,*— 

No lark that aloft in the sky 
Ever fluttered his wings to give speed to the plough. 

Was so gay or so careless as I. 

But my friend was a carfindo aboaicd ft king's s!jip/ 

And he ax'd xne to go just to sea for a trip; 

And he lalk'd of such things. 

As if sailors veere kings. 

And so teazing did keepi 

That I left my poor plough to go ploughing the Cm 

No longer the horn 

Caird tne up in tJie luom ; 

I trusted the carfindo and the ineouAtant wind, 

That made me for to go and leave my dear beliind, 

[ did not much like for to be aboard a ahip ; 

When in danger there's no door to creep out ; 
1 liked the Jolly tars, I liked bumbo and flip, 

But I did not like rocking about. 
By-and-bye comes a hurricane, — I did not like that* 
Next a battle, that many a sailor laid flat. 
Ah ! cried I, who would roam, 
That, like me, had a home? 
Where Vd sow and Vd reap, 
Ere I*d left my poor plough to go ploughing the ( 
Where sweetly tbe horn 
CalFd me up in the morn. 

Ere I trusted the carfindo and the inconstant wind. 
That made me for to go and leave ray dear behind. 

At last safe I landed, and in a whole skin, 

Nor did I make any long stay 
Ere 1 found, by a friend, whom I ax'd for my kin, j 

Father dead, and my wife run away. 
Ah, who, but thyself, said I, hast thou to blame ? 
Wives losiniE their husbands, oft lose their ^ood naine. 


Ah, why did 1 r6ain, 

When so happy at home 

I could sow and could reap, 

Ere I left my poor plough to go plougliing the deep ? 

When so sweetly the horn 

Caird me up in the morn. 

Curse light upon the carfindo and the inconstant wind. 

That made me for to go and leave my dear behind. 

Why, if that be the case, said this very same friend, 
And you ben't no more minded to roam, 

Gis a shake by the fist, all your care's at an end. 
Dad's alive, and your wife safe at home. 

Stark staring with joy, I leap*d out of my skin, 

Buss'd my wife, mother, sister, and all of my kin. 

Now, cried I, let them roam 

Who want a good home ; 

I am well, so Fll keep. 

Nor again leave my plough to go ploughing the deep : 

Once more shall the horn 

Call me up in the mom. 

Nor shall any damned carfindo, nor the inconstant wind, 

E'er tempt me for to go and leave my dear behind. 


Come on, jolly lads ! to the drum-head repair ; 
I beat up for recruits in the name of the fair — 
Britain's fair, who, to beauty add a new charm, 
Send good wishes, and flannel, our soldiers to warm. 
At the sound of the fife and the roll of the drum, 
Come away, my lads, come ! 


At the sweet call of beauty to duty repair, 

And worthily inerit the gift of the fair* 

What but victVy complete can result from those war* 

Where the cestus of Venua encircles each Mars ? 

At old Troy eonie kmd goddess, by spell or by cbamit 
Condesc<*nding, preserved votive warriors from harm j 
So Britons shall boast the same tutelary caret 
Invulnerable grown by the gift of the fain 
At the sound of the fife, &c, 

England's armour's her comnierce — the woolsack fs 
To take place, in this kingdom, of all but the throne; 
The power of our arms, then, what force can withstand, 
When wool's formed to armour by beauty's fair hand ? 
At the sound of the fife, &c« 

Tis allowed through the world, as this nation's pr 

That the beauties of Britain all beauty exceed 1 
How then must that beauty each Briton enclave. 
When it tenders its influence to succour the brave ! 

At the sound of the fife^ &c. 

Complete then the work ; for the brave and the bold 

Let no fair in the land her assistance withold ; 
What power to attack British soldiers shall dare. 
Who are, armed cap-a-pie, hy a generous fair ? 
At the sound of the Bfe, &c. 



The gloomy night stalk'd slow away, 
The twilight spoke the doubtful day, 
When on a rock poor Peg reclined. 
Mad as the waves, wild as the wind. 
Give me my love! she frantic scream'd ; 
I saw his ghost as by it gleam*d : 
ril dive, ril search the briny gloom. 
And snatch him from his coral tomb. 
Ah ! let me, Fate, his relics save,— 
True lovers should find out one grave. 

And now the tempest dims the sky,— 

How many ways poor sailors die ! 

See, see, the stagg*ring vessel splits ! 

She's lost, like Peg's poor shipwreck'd wits. 

No, 'twas in battle that he died. 

Would no power turn the ball aside? 

I saw it as it rent his heart ; 

I heaid him cry — And must we part? 

For Peggy, ah ! these relics save, — 

True lovers should find out one grave. 

Where on the deep the cavern yawn'd. 

Now as the purple morning dawn'd 

The surge, in breakers loud and hoarse, 

Her love casts up, a lifeless corse. 

She raves, she screams, her hands she wrings, 

The shock returning reason brings : 

Reason returns, alas ! too late ; 

She clasps her love, and yields to fate. 

Their mourning friends their relics save. 

And these two lovers find one ^taNe* 



Oh I the camp's delightful rigs^ 

At which such crowds are peepingi 
Where chaises, diliies, carts ^ and gigi 

Serve both to ride and sleep in* 
Oh \ the joys that there abound, 

Wherej lured by the fine weather. 
Warriors of every rank are founds 
Who higgledy piggledy, oo the groiUKtf 

Like gipsies pig together* 

The morning sun 

Begins the fun, 
H eve lilies next the drum beats. 

The sprighiiy fife 

And then the silver trumpets ; 

And these, with all their might, 

Announce a fine sham fight ; 

Marches, retreats, attacks and routs. 

Proclaim 'd by guns, and shriekB^ and shouts^ 
The air with Tar ions clangor fill ; 

While ranks of foot, and troops of horse. 

Resistless in their headlong course, 

Bear down while sliding, shifting, trimming. 

Beaux, belles, Jew pedlars, and old women i 

Who left in topsy-turvy pHghtj 

Exhibit, O ye gods ! a sight 
Th»t beggars GreerwidLHii\ 


Now either army stilly stands, 

The neighing horses cease to prance^ 
The trumpet that erst cried Advaoce, 
Now sounds Retreat ; 
Drums cease to beat ; 

Foes, tum*d to friends, eager shake hafidsi 
On neither side the winner : 

No longer armed for a sham fight. 

They tooth and nail unite 
To exterminate — the dinner. 

Oh ! the camp's delightful rigs, &c« 

Oh ! for a muse of fire, to sing 

The conflict of the day ! 
Upon the plain, in form a ring. 

The foe within entrenchments lay ; 

A cover'd way, 
Hid each division : at the sight. 
The heroes, eager for the fight, 

Arm, and the enemy invest. 

Each charge fresh vigour brings : 
They thin the ranks, 
Attacking flanks 

And wings : 

Legs, heads, and carcasses around 
They in one shapeless heap confound ; 
And, ris'n to such savage heat. 
Not only kill, but all they kill they eat i 
And see, to urge their Virions course. 
Light troops the foe now reinforce ; 
On the instant, as they stand amazed. 
New works are raised; 

Like magic to their wondVing eyaa, 
Baationsj redoubts^ and rav'lins rise. 

Again the signal giv*n ^ 

Again wkh headlong fury driv'n ; 

Comfits^ now discomfited. 

Lie in proTniscuous ruin spread ; 
Trifles, blanc-mange, and jeUiea quake. 

While, *s with rage ihey teem, 
Whole ialanda they devour af cake, 

And drink i^hole seas of rream. 
Again the general cries, Charge all ! 

The word^s— The King! 

Forward they spring, 
And drink, in savage joy, the blood 
Drawn from the grape, in purple flood ; 
And strew with mangled heaps the plain. 
And flght the battle o*er again. 
And slay the ulain \ 
And now, the foe al! kilFd or fled, 
VVhile those who can walk off to bed, — 
The solemn trumpet sowly sounded, 
Leave*s given to carry off the wounded. 

And bury all the dead* 
Oh I the campus delight^] rigi. Sec, 


'Tis said that love, the more *tis tried, 
Grows firmer and lasts longer ; 

And when distress the knot has tied, 
'Tis cloier knit and stronger. 


She who with love's best joys would fain 
That fate would thus regale her, 

Must share the peril and the pain 
That mark the gallant sailor. 

To hope in vain, in vain to sigh, 

Deep sorrow to dissemble; 
To shudder at each lowering sky, 

At every breeze to tremble ; 
While neither wishes, prayers, nor tears. 

To ease her mind avail her ;— 
These dreadful trials speak her fears 

Who loves a gallant sailor. 

And now her miseries to refine, 

To fate she's forced to yield him ; 
For, with swoU'n eyes, she spells the line 

Where newspapers have kill'd him : 
This is the last of her alarms ; 

Cease, lovers, to bewail her ; 
He comes, and in her trembling arms 

She holds her gallant sailor. 


Dick Hopeful, from an honest stock, 
Bom his kind parents' hopes to mock, 
Who chose him out a lovely mate, 
But he resolved to brave his fate, 
Spurn'd at content and went to sea. 
Damme, says Dick, no wife for me ! 
*Twere better brave the tempest's strife ;- 
Who's such a fool to value life? 


Mad aa the winds, to sea he wen*. 

Nor was there danger ever sent^ 

By sickness 1 water, lire, or aifj 

Comb in 'd, but he'd a precious share ; 

Till shipwrecked, flush'd with dTinJi, at nighu 

He saw a female, and a light ; 

Twas her who long'd to be his wife* 

For once, said he, I value life. 

The thankless wretch next swore, and reel'd, 
That night he*d die, or she should yield ; 
And now on force and outrage bent, 
Her window scaVd : but mark the event ! 
He found her on her knees at prayer 
That Heaven might make hitn still its carej 
Protect him from the tempeat^s strife, 
And teach him how to Ysdue life* 

Confounded at the scene he saw, 
He stood immovable with awe ; 
And he, before who knew no shame, 
A contrite penitent became* 
Next morn he led the nuptial band. 
She yielded up her willing hand : 
She'B called tlie pattern of a wife, 
4 [id Dick knowB how to value life. 



Since love is the hero's best duty, 

And the brave fight to merit the fair, 
How sweet, when commanded by beauty, 

He flies every danger to dare ! 
Hark, hark; the loud drum 
Cries, come, come, come, come, 
Another Britannia appears ; 
And while England's banners she gracefully rears, 
And sweetly addresses the band. 
And beauty and bravery salute. 
And the flute mocks the trumpet, the trumpet the flute, 
The heroes receive the dear pledge from her hand, 
And swear that they'll well 
Hostile boasters repel, 
Till honour and safety give peace to the land 

Thus the hero may well wear his armour, 
And, patient, count ^over his scars ; 

Venus' dimples, assuming the charmer. 
Shall smooth the rough furrows of Mars. 
Hark, hark! &c. 

Then round with the health of the diooor, 
While angels might look and approve; 

Since love is the hero's best honour. 
Let each hero do honour to love. 
Hark, hark! &:c. 


' Oi^E neger say one ting, you no take offence, 
Black and win te be one colour a hundred year hence | 
For when maasa Death kick him into him grave, 
He no spare neitlier mass a, no buckram nor slave : 
Then dance and then sing, an a banger atrum, strum p 
He foolish to tink what a morrow may come ; 
Lily laugh and grow fat, a best ting you can do, 
Time enough to be sad when you kickarahoo. 

One mass a, one slave, high and low, all degrees, 
Can he happy^ all sing, make all pleasure him pleaae; 
One slave be one niassa if him good, honest, brave. 
One mas^a bad, wicked* him worse um one slave : 
If you heart tell you good, you all happy, all well; 
If bad, he a plague, vex you worse dan um hell. 
Let you heart inake you merry den, good, honest, true». 
And you no care no farden for kickaraboo* 

One game him see niassa him play, an call chess; 
King, queen, bishop^ castle, knight, all in a mess ; 
King kill knight, queen kill bishop, men castle trow 
Ijike card soldier all scatter an lay on a ground ; 
And when de game over, king, bishop, tag, rag. 
Queen, knight, all agedder him go in a bag: 
So in ljfe*s game o* chess, when no more him can dcH 
Masaa Death bring one bag» and we kickaraboo* 


Den be good, what you am never mind de degree ; 
Lily flower good for summat as well as big tree. 
You one slave, be no use a be sulky and sly ; 
Worky, worky, you *haps be one massa by*m by ; 
Savee good and be poor, make you act better parlf 
Dan be rich in a pocket and poor in a heart. 
Though ever so low, do your duty,— for true 
All you friend drop a tear when you kickaraboo. 


Hark ! witli what glee yon merry clown 

Reasons, remarks, and sows ; 
To pain and care alike unknown^ 

He whistles as he goes. 
From nature's lore to reason taught, 

He knows not subtle rules. 
But ventures oil such pithy thought 

As might instruct the schools. 

" This ground's just like the world," cries he, 

"And thezum zeeds its cares." 
" How's that?" says one. " Why, canVe zeet 

As I be a zowing o' tares ? 
Tol de rol, &c. 

" For drill or broadcast none do know 
Better than Jolt' ring Giles to sow, 
Be't beans, or whuts, or wheat or rye, 
Or barley, you mun come to I." 
Tol de Tol &c. 

Thus Jolt*Tmg GHes, tbe fnerry elcmtit 

K^asonSf remarks, and bows : 
To pain and care alike unknown, 

He whistles as he goes. 

One day some dashing sprigs came by. 

Imported neat from town ; 
As they pass*d on, Giles heard *em cry— 

*'I say, let's qniz the clown 1" 
And just as they their foil began 

An ass was heard to bray 
Ichaw T *' Here, fellow, clown !'* — ** Anon 1 

One at a time, ziir, pray !" 
** We reap the fruit of all that*s sown 

By fellows of your stamp," 
" That's very likely, zur, I own, 

Vor I be zowing o' hamp," 

Tol de rol, &c. 
For drill or broadcast, &c, 

'* A vriend to all the country round, 

My labours all regale ; 
*Twas I the barley put i' the ground 

That brew*d th' exciseman's ale ; 
The wheat I sow wi* even hand> 

To thousands shall give bread i 
There's never no king, nor 'squire o' th* hnd^ 

Zo many mouths ha' ved : 
I zaves zum zouls, vor aught I know — 

If how thou'st wish lam — 
The tithe of every grain I ^ow 

Goes into the parson's barn. 
Tol de rol, S:e. 
For drill OT broadca^l, &£» 


** But what at last be all my pains ? 

Just like to wheat or rye, 
A man comes vorward, counts his gains, 

And holds his head up high : 
Then, scarcely full and ripe he*s grown. 

However great he be. 
Death, with his zickle, cuts un down. 

And there be*s an end o* he. 
Zo, while a body's here below 

Clean hands be zure to keep, 
Vor, zure as death, as we do zow 

We zartainly shall reapT* 

Tol de rol, &c. 
For drill or broadcast, &c. 


SuRB en't I the drummer that goes to the fight ? 

Only hear me with joy, and you'll be stunned with delight 

The likes of my fame sure no mortal enjoys, 

For there's nobody makes such a dev'l of a noise. 

With my rub a dub, row de dow, rattle away, 

See the army all drawn out in battle array ; 

How sweetly they come to the sound of my drum, 

With my rub a dub, &c. 

Advancing the last, and retreating the first. 
When we're covered with smoke, and with glory, and dust , 
'Mongst heroes that follow and heroes that fly, 
(f a devil of a thundering you hear, why, that's I ^ 
With my rub a dub, &c. 

Hien the fun that you'd see, wid delight and surprise, 

rf the devilish smoke did not put out your eyes. 
In the lovely Dutch concert of shrieks and dismay, 
aSure en't it, my soul, the first fiddle I play ? 
With my rub a dub, &c. 

Then, like herrings, — all smoked^ from the field when i 

And our battles abroad we are fighting at home, 
My share I contend for wid body and breatii, 
Though I nobody kill'd, fait I stunn'd them to death, 

With my rub a dub, &c. 


There was a lady, a lady, a pretty lady, 

The pride of Aurora; i 

^ Such a string of relations I a string of relations ! 
(Ad libiium,) 
First cousin to Narcissus, Hyacinth u& couflin-german^ 
^Heliotropus' niece, the sister of Myrdllis, 
And the grand-daughter of Flora I 
Alike she delighted the eyes and the nose, 
She oulblush'd the belles, and she charmM all the heai^ 
And thus we ^mek out that her name was Rose. 
And though she alternate gave pleasure and smarts 
[n my bosom I placed her, and nearest my heart j 
Half seas over id love, of no danger afraid, 
i thought, not remembering tliat roses would fade, 


That for ever now iix'd I had done with my rambles, 
But alas ! Heaven knows, this delicate rose, 
Alas ! Heaven knows, this delicate rose, 
In Hymen's soft fetters I scarcely had bound, 
When, by symptoms of scratching, I presently found 
That roses have brambles, have brambles, have brambles, 
That roses have brambles ! 

Thus my pretty little Rose, 

When I put her to my nose, 

Scratch'd my face with her beautiful brambles ! 

There was a lady, a lady, a pretty lady ; 
Not the same, but another. 
Oh, such an extraction ! oh, such an extraction ! 
(Ad libitum,) 
She could count by the father's side all the way to Methu* 

selah and Adam, and to Eve by the mother ; 
Caird a Phoenix by bards, by her godmothers Grace ; 
But as if Madam Nature, in making her face. 
Had got drunk, and so happened her charms to misplace, 
Though she gave wherewithal admiration to get, 
There was no want of lily, nor ruby, nor jet ; 
But the jet was her teeth in irregular rows. 
Her lips were the lily, the ruby her nose. 

But love attempts all things ; and I swore to win her. 
And this Madam Grace, with her whimsical face. 
And this Madam Grace, with her whimsical face, 
A bride to the altar I surely had led, 
Had she not bless'd another, who never had said 
Grace before dinner, before dinnei, before dinner! 
Grace before dinner ! 

What a pity such a Grace, 
With such a queer face. 
Should forjjet to say grace befote ^ix\TVb\\ '^ 


*rhere was a lady, a Ja^y, a Spanish lady^ 

A lovely Blondinellat 
And they calFd her for shorliiess, they caird 

{Ad libitum,) 
Signora Flora di Guzman y Bazaloa Pintenda Md 

Yobnte Isabella! 
So numerous the charms of this heavenly belie. 
They bewitch'd my fond heart like a conjuror*?* spell; 
Had she been Orpheus' wife, he'd have fetch' d her froJ 

The tily» the rose, and the stars in the sktes, 
Were eclipsed by her lips, and her teeth, and her eyea \ 
No peacock so stately ^ more graceful no swan; 
Thus full gallop my love and my raptures began t 

Her charms and attractions ao filling my nappe r, 
But, alas I pretty belle how it grieves me to lell, 
Alas 1 pretty belle, how it grieves me to tell 
SheM one imperfection* a sort of a speckj — 
A kind of deduction, a drawback, a check, — 
My beJl had a clapper, had a clapper, a clapperj 
My bell had a clapper ! 

Ob, my pretty little bell, 
I'd have loved her very well, 
If she hadn*t had a devil of a clapper I 


When I comes to town wi,h a load of a hay, 
Mean and lowly though I aeemt 

I knows pretty well how they figures away. 
While 1 wbistka and drives my team* 


Youi uatty sparks and flashy dames. 
How I do love to queer 1 
I runs my rigs, 
And patters and gigs, 
And plays a hundred comical games, 
To all that I comes near. 
Then in a pet 
To hear *em fret, 
A-mobbing away they go, — 
/*The scoundrel deserves to be horse-whipp'd T* 
"Who? me, Ma'am?") 
Wo, Ball, wo! 
So to mind them I never seem, 
But whistles and drives my team ! 

So, as I seems thinking of nothing at all, 

And driving as fast as I can, 
I pins a queer thing against a wall. 
Half a monkey and half a man ! 
The mob came round him to put up his Uood * 
While he*s trembling from top to toe, 
My whip it goes spank, 
I tips Ball on the flank. 
Ball plunges, and paints him all over with mud. 
Queers his stockings, and spoils the beau! 
Then the sweet pretty dear. 
Ah, could you but hear, — 
("Odds, curse! I'll make you know, 
You infernal villain !" 
"Lord bless your baby face, I would not hurt youi 
spindle shanks for the world !'*) 
Wo, Ball, wo! 
So to mind them I never seem. 
But whistles and drives my team. ^ t^ 


And so I gets the finest fun 

And frisk that ever you saw ; 
Of all 1 meets I can queer every one 

But you gemmen of the law. 
Though they can scarcely put me down : 
Says I, to their courts when I'm led, 
Where their tails of a pig 
They hide with a wig, 
How many ways in London town 
They dresses a calf's head ! 
Then ev'ry dunce 
To hear open at once. 
Like mill-clacks their clappers go, 
('* Oh, that's the fellow I saw grinning through the horse- 
collar in the country." 
'*I fancy you are the fellow I saw grinning through tiie 
pillory in London!") 
Wo, Ball, wo! 
So to mind *em I never seem, 
But whistles and drives my team 


Would you see the world in little 

Ye curious here repair ; 
We'll suit you to a tittle 

At this our rustic fair. 
We've glitt'ring baits to catch you, 

As tempting as at court ; 
With whim for whim we'll match you, 

And give ^ow %^n for s^oru 


From a sceptre to a rattle, 

We*ve everything in toys ; 
For infants that scarce prattle, 

To men who still are boys. 
Cock-horses and state coaches 

In gingerbread are sold ; 
Cakes, parliament, gilt watches. 

And horns all tipp'd with gold. 
Then if for fine parade you go. 
Come here and see our puppet-show. 

Walk in here, ladies and gentlemen. Here you may 
see the Queen of Sheba, and King Solomon in all hii 
glory. You think that figure's all alive; but he is nc 
more alive than I am ! 

While the pipes and the tabors rend the afr, 
Haste, neighbours, to the fair. 

What's your sweepstakes and your race^^ 

And all your fighting cocks^ 
To our horse-collar grimaces. 

And girls that run for smocks t 
Our Hobs can swivel noses, 

At single-stick who fight. 
As well as your Mendozas, 

Though not quite so polite. 
In their deceptions neater 

Are your keen rooks allow'd, 
Than is yonder fire-eater, 

Who queers the gaping crovrd^. 

Then boast not tricks io noxiousj 

That genteel life bespeak, 
Our jngglersj hixious doxiottSj 

Shall distance every Greek* 
Can Pharaoh and his host be found 
To match our nimble merry-go-round? 

Put in, here^ put in, put in I — Every blank a priii 
Oown with Jt and double it, — twenty can play as well i 

While the pipes, Stc. 

Hear yon mountebank assure ye 

Of diseases by the score, 
A single dose shall cure ye. 

Can Warwick*lane do more? 
Wid virligigs teto turns, 

Yon lew's imposhmg faish 
Shall cheat you here in no timejit 

All one as in Duke's-place, 
Hark, yonder, making merry. 

Full many a bappy down ! 
For champagne who drink perry. 

As good as that in town. 
Then I for sights, we've apes and nionkeys. 

Some or four legs, some on two ; 
Tall women, dwarfs, cropped donkeys, 

For all the world like you ! 
Then, would ye Ranelagh find out, 
What d*ye think of our roundabout? 

Walk in, ladies and gentlemen \ the only booth 
fair! Here ye may make the to»r of the wliole wc 
Would ye ride in the caravan, the expedition, the l 
frigate, or the dilly? Fourteen miles in fifteen j* 
Jadiej! and gentlemen 1 

While tTcie ^\^e&, Btci. 

be 1. 




Of horns and of echoes that through the woods liii^, 

And of lads full of spunk and of soul, 
And of gay sporting boxes let other bards sing, 

Merely built for the chase or the bowl, 
I bring you, of sportsmen, a true and tried knot, 
Who sport a snug box call'd Humanity's Cot. 

Is honour in danger, worth sunk by its fears. 
On those coursers, their wishes, they're borne. 

To hunt vice to the toils, and to dry virtue's tears, 
As the sun melts the dew of the mom. 

Then join of true sportsman so noble a knot, 

The good lads that inhabit Humanity's Cot. 

What chase a delight can more gloriously yield. 

Than to hunt in so noble a track ; 
Vice and folly the game, wide creation the field. 

And the vot'ries of honour the pack ? 
Rejoice, then, ye sportsmen, who're thrown by Fate's ]ot 
'Mongst the lads that inhabit Humanity's Cot. 

Return'd from their toil, with life's comforts well stored, 

Reflection their food gives a zest ; 
Health seasons the viand that smokes on the board, 

A clear conscience invites them to rest. 
And sweet are the slumbers that fall to the lot 
Of the lads that inhabit Humanity's Cot 

Then let each English iportsman these maxlnis embrooSi 
Who the spoils of true honour would share. 

All that*s noxious to hunt to the toils in life's cbase, 
All that^a harmless and useful to spare. 

So the blessing of thousands shall make up their lot, 

And each sporting box vie whh Humanity's Cot. 


A WATCHHAH I ^m, and I knows all the round, 

The housekeepers, the strays, and the lodgers, 
Where low devils, rich dons, and high rips may be found, 

Odd dickies, queer kids, and rum codgers* 
Of money and of property Tm he that takes care. 
And cries when I see rogues go by, Hey[ what are ymi 
doing there? 

"Only a little business in that house! You under- 
stand me?" "Understand you I Well, I believe you are 
an honest man* Do you hear. — Bring me an uild silver 

Then to my box I creep. 
And then fall fast asleep. 

Saint PauFs strikes ONEf 

Thus after all the mischiers done, 
I goes and gives them warning, 

And loudly bawls, 

As strike St. PauVs, 
Past one o'clock, and a cloudy morning. 


1 hen, round as the hour I merrily cries, 

Another fine mess I discover, — 
For a curious rope-ladder I straightway espies. 

And Miss Forward expecting her lover. 
Then to each other's arms they fly — 

My life — my soul ! Ah, ah ? 
Fine work. Miss Hot-upon't ! cries I ; 

I'll knock up your papa. 

"No, no, you won't." "I shall! worthy old soul!— 
to be treated in this manner." "Here, here, take this." 
"Oh, you villain! want to bribe an honest watchman! 
and with such a trifle too!" " Well, well, here is more?" 
" More ! You seem to be a spirited lad. Now do make 
her a good husband. I am glad you tricked the old 
hunks. Good night. I wish you safe at Gretna Green!" 

Then to my box I creep, 
And then fall fast asleep. 

Saint Paul's strikes TWO ! 

The lovers off", what does I do,— 
[ gives the father warning. 

And loudly bawls, 

As strikes St. Paul's, 
Past two o'clock, and a cloudy morning. 

Then towards the square from my box as I looks, 

I hears such a ranting and tearing : 
'Tis Pharaoh's whole host, and the pigeons and rooks 

Are laughing, and singing, and swearing. 
Then such a hubbub and a din. 

How they blaspheme and curse ! 
That thief has stole my diamond pin,-— 

Watch, watch, — I've lost my purse ! 

** Watclip here ; I cliarge you," '* And I cliarges you.** 
'**Tis a marvel loua thing that honest people caix't go 
home without being robbed. Which is Uie thief?" 
'* That*a the thief that tricked me out of two hundred 
pounds thia eyening/* "Ah I that you know is all in 
the way of business. But which is the thief that stole 
the gentleman's purse?" "That'a him/* "What! 
Sam Snatch? Give it to me, Sam, He has not got 
your purse,^ — you are mistaken in your man. Go hon 
peaceably, and don't oblige me to take you to the wa^ 

Then to my box I creep, 
And then fall fast asleep. 

St Paulas strikes THREE— ^ 

Thus from all roguery I gets free 
By giving people warning, 

And loudly bawls 

As strike St* Paurs, 
Fast three o^closk, and a cloudy morning* 


To Bachelor's Hail we good fellows invite^ 
To partake of the chase that makes up otir delight, i 
We have spirits like fircj and of health sueh a stock. 
That our pulae strikes tlie seconds as true as a clock- 
Did you see us, you'd swear^ as we mount with a grace, 
That Diana had dubb*d some new gods of the chase. 
Harky sway ! hark, away I all nature looks gay, 
,4iid Aurora with smiles ushers in the bright day. 


Dick Thickset came mounted upon a fine blacky 
A better fleet gelding ne'er hunter did back ; 
Tom Trigg rode a bay full of mettle and bone ; 
And gaily Bob Buxom rode on a proud roan ; 
But the horse of all horses that rivall'd the day 
Was the Squire's Neck-or-Nothing, and that was a grey. 
Hark away ! &c. 

Then for hounds, there was Nimble, so well that climb'd 

rocks ; 
And Cock-nose, a good one at scenting a fox ; 
Little Plunge, like a mole, who will ferret and search ; 
And beetle-browed Hawk*s-eye, so dead at a lurch ; 
Young Sly-looks, who scents the strong breeze from the 

And musical Echo-well, with his deep mouth. 
Hark away ! &c. 

Our horses thus all of the very best blood, 
'Tis not likely you'll easily find such a stud ; 
And for hounds our opinions with thousands we'd back 
That all England throughout can't produce such a pack. 
Thus having described you dogs, horses, and crew, 
Away, we set off, for the fox is in view. 
Hark away ! &c. 

Sly Reynard's brought home, while the hounds sotmd a call. 
And now you're all welcome to Bachelor's Hall. 
The savoury sirloin grateful smokes on the board, 
And Bacchus pours wine from his favourite hoard. 
Come on, then, do honour to this jovial place. 
And enjoy the sweet pleasures that spring from the chase : 
Hark, away ! hark, away ! while our spirits are gay, 
Let us drink to the joys of the next comm^dv]. 


^Mi^F«^V^^^.J M ' ^^ 

Says my father, says he, one day, to I, 

Thou knowest by false friends we are undone, 
Should my law -suit be lost, then thy good fortune try 

Amongst our relations in London* 
Here's Sukey, the poor orphan child of frieod Grist, 

Who once kept thy father from starving ; 
When thy fortune thou'st made* thou shall take by the fiit*^ 

For a wife, — for she's good and deserving. 
But mind thee in heart this one maxim, our Jack, 

As thou^st read thy good fate in a book, 
Make honour thy guide or else n^ver come back 

To father and mother aud Suke. 

So I buss'd Suke and mother, and greatly concem'd, 

Off I set, with my father^s kind blessing, 
To our cousin the wine-merchant, where I soon leam'd 

About mi^jtiiig, and brewing, and pressing : 
But the sloe-juice, and ratsbane, aud all that fine joke^ 

Was soon in my stomach arising : 
Why dom it, cried I^ would you Id 11 the poor folk 2 

I thought you sold wine, and not poison. 
Your place^ my dear cousin, won't do, for you lack 

To make your broth, another guess cook ; 
Besides, without honour, T cannot go hack 

To iktber and mother and Suke, 


To my uncle, the doctor, 1 next went my ways ; 

He teach*d me the mystery quickly. 
Of those that were dying to shorten their days, 

And they in good health to make sickly. 
Oh, the music of groans ! cried my uncle, dear bo3% 

Vapours set all my spirits a-flowing ; 
A fit of the gout makes me dancing for joy ; 

At an ague I'm all in a glowing ! 
Why then, my dear uncle, cries I, you're a quack, 

For another assistant go look ; 
For, you see, without honour, I munna go back 

To father and mother and Suke. 

From my cousin, the parson, I soon comed away. 

Without either waiting or warning. 
For he preach'd upon soberness three times one day. 

And then comed home drunk the next morning. 
My relation, the author, stole other folks* thoughts, 

My cousin, the bookseller, sold them ; 
My pious old aunt found in innocence faults. 

And made virtue blush as she told them ! 
So the prospect around me quite dismal and black, 

Scarcely knowing on which side to look, 
I just saved my honour, and then I comed back 

To father and mother and Suke. 

I found them as great as a king on his throne, — 

The lawsuit had banish'd all sorrow. 
Pm come, said I, father, my honour's my own. 

Then thou shalt have Sukey to-morrow. 
But how about London ? *Twon't do for a clown ; 

There vice rides with folly behind it ; 
Not, you see, that I says there's no honour in towr. — 

I nnly says I could not find \t- 

you sent me to starve, you found out the right tracRJ 
If to live, the wrong method you took; 
*or I poor went to London, and poor I corned back 
To father and mother and 5uke« 


Of all Heaven gave to comfort maUj 

And cheer his drooping soul, 
Show me a blessing, he who can, 

To top the flowing bowl : 
When amorous Strephon, dying awaiu. 

Whose heart hi a Daphne stole, 
Is jilted, to relieve his pain 

He seeks ihe flowing bowL 

When husbands hear, iu hopeleas grief^ 

The knell begin to toll, 
They mourn awhile, then, for rdie^ 

They seek the flowing bowl* 
The tar, while swelling waves deform 

Old Oceaa as they roll, 
In spite of danger and the storm. 

Puts round the flowing bowl. 

The miner, who his devious way 

Works like the purblind mole. 
Still comfort for the loss of day 

Finds in the flowing bowl. 
It gives to poets lyric wit, 

To jesters to be droll, 
Anacreon^s self had never writ 

But for th( Bowing bowL 


Moisten your clay, then, sons of earth. 

To Bacchus in a shoal, 
Come on the volunteers of mirth : 

And by the flowing bowl 
Become immortal, be adored, 

'Mongst Gods your names enroll,— 
Olympus be the festive board, 

Nectar the flowing bowl. 


Standing one summer's day on the Tower slip. 

Careless how I my time should employ, 
It popp'd in my head that I'd take a trip 

Aboard of a Margate Hoy. 
1 took a few slop», such as shirts and a coat. 

For of prog I knew well they'd be stor'd; 
Then I hail'd a pair of oars, shoved off my boat, 

And away I dashed aboard. 

"Ah, my dear Commodore! who thought of seeing 
you? What, Mrs. Garbage! How is the Alderman?" 
'* There is my husband, sir." " Ton my word and dicky, 
I declare." "Give me leave. Commodore, to introduce 
you to my friends : Mr. Shadrack, Commodore Kelson 
— Commodore Kelson, Mr, Shadrack." "Very much at 
your sharvice, sir." " Miss Minnikin, Commodore Kel- 
son — Commodore Kelson, Miss Minnikin." "Very 
happy to have the pleasure of knowing you, sir." Dr. 


QjifibiL^, Commodore Kelson — Commodore Kelson, 
Quibisfi; Captain Squath, ComiPodore Kelson — Comtnc*- 
dore Kelgon, Capi:am Sq^iash: Sir PheHm O'Drogheda, 
Coinniodore Kehon — Com mod ore Kelson, Sir Phelitn 
O'Droghed^.'^ — Hollo, there! Cast off the painter* 
^tilt Ir'1 es and gentlemen. 

So off we went with a flowing jib. 

Full of merriment and joy ; 
The alderman munching^ and prattling his rilj. 
Sing who ao blithe as we. 
Who take a voyage to sea 
Aboard of a Margate Hoy. 

Then auch glee and good humonri o«^ 1^7 ^ prolongs J 

Pervaded us fore and aft ; 
Some were telling a story, some whistling a song, 

Aa we tum'd in and out 'mongst the craft. 
Then we talk'd of our danger, and then we were gay;" 

Then how we'd astonish the folks 
When at Margate arrived ; then cut out of our way. 

To laugh at the watermen's jokes. 

"Ho! the ship, ahoy J" "Ay, ay!*' ''Pray, 
' you one Wiseman aboard ?" " No, 110^" ** Then you 
ail fools, heh?" "Ha, ha, ha 1" went Miss Minnil 
'* Dat is very coot chokes,** said the Jew. ** Why, 
i;ay, Moses," said the man that was affronted, '* are you 
a bull or bear! Damme^ I think you look more like a 
monkey. And yoa. Miss Dolly Dry lips, take a reef in 
your perriwig, and c!ap a stopper on your muzxle, clew 
up the plaits in your jaw-bags, and give your tongue 
leave of absence. About ship,- — helm's alee — here she 
. comes.** 



So we made t'other tack, and laid gunnel to, 

Which soon gave a damp to our joy — 
Miss Minnikin squall'd ; Mine Cot ! cried the Jew. 
Sing who so blythe as we, 
Who take a voyage to sea 
On board of a Margate Hoy ? 

The company's merriment now out of joint, 

And their tattlers not moving so quick. 
Scarce right a-head did we twig Cuckold's Point ^ 

But the alderman 'gan to be sick. 
Then we'd like to fall foul of an oyster smack, 

The wind freshening towards the Nore ; 
Then stretching too far on the larboard tack. 

By and by we came bump on shore. 

"Ah, we shall all be cast away! My poor dear 
pattern-cap!" " Cash'd away! What shall I do to be 
shaved?" "Why, faith!" said I, "I fancy we shall 
have a touch of the salt wa^e* before we get to Margate." 
" Yes, sir," said the doctor, " Not that I have any quar • 
rel with death, but I am afraid we shall take in too large 
a dose." "How do you do. Sir Phelim?" "Arrah! I 
should be well enough if I was not so cursedly sick." 
She rights, she rights ! 

Next a gale coming on, we did preciously kick, 

Which finished completely our joy ; 
'Twas, Madam, how do you do ? Oh ! I am monstrousljf 
Sing who so blythe as we, 
Who take a voyage to sea 
On board of a Margate Hoy ? 

lDc( now 'twould iave made a philosoplier grift 

To have seen such a concourse of itiiins ; 
Sick as death, wet a^ muck, from the heel to the nhiii^ 

For it caine on to blow great guns. 
Spoird clothes and provisions now clogg'd up the w^ 

In a dreary and boisterous night I 
While apparently dead every passenger lay 

With the fiickneas, but more with the fright. 

" Oh, oh I 1 wish I was at home in my bed V* 
that I was a hundred miles off!'* "Mashy upon mi 
shins'" **Oh| oh! will nobody throw me overboard?" 
"Avast, there!" '*Ah, my poor dear pattern-cap'i 
blown into tlie pond!^* ** Oh, my soul ! what a devil d 
a sickness I" " Arrah, stop the ship! let me out! Sif, 
would you be so kind as to be after handing me a caudle- 
cup?" Land, 3and> upon the starboard bow! 

At last afler turning on two or three tackSf 

Margate lights soon restored all our joy ; 
The men found their stomachs, the women their clacf 
Sing who so blythe as wCi 
Who take a voyage to sea 
Aboard of a Margate Hoy? 


J OH If Bull for pastime took a prance. 
Some time ago to peep at France ; 
To talk of sciences and arts. 
And knowledge gained in foreign parti* 


Monsieur, obsequious, heard him speak, 
And answer'd John in heathen Greek : 
To all he ask*d, 'bout all he saw, 
'Twas Monsieur, Je vous nentends pas. 

John to the Palais-Royal come. 
Its splendour almost struck him dumb. 
I say, Whose house is that there here ? 
Hosse ! Je vous nentends pas. Monsieur^ 
What, Nongtongpaw again ! cries John ; 
This fellow is some mighty Don : 
No doubt he's plenty for the maw, 
I'll breakfast with this Nongtongpaw. 

John saw Versailles from Marli's height. 
And cried, astonish'd at the sight. 
Whose fine estate is that there here ? 
Stat! Je vous nentends pas. Monsieur. 
His ? what, the land and houses too 'i 
The fellow's richer than a Jew : 
On everything he lays his claw ! 
I should like to dine with Nongtongpaw. 

Next, tripping, came a courtly fair, 
John cried, enchanted with her air, 
What lovely wench is that there here ? 
Ventchf Je vous n'entends pas. Monsieur* 
What, he again ? Upon my life ! 
A palace, lands, and then a wife 
Sir Joshua might delight to draw : 
£ should like to sup with Nongtongpaw. 

Bat hold! whose funeral's that? cries Jolm. 
Je vous n*eniendi pm; — What is he gone ? 
Wealth, fame, and beauty could not save 
Poor Nongtongpaw then from tlie grave ! 
His race is run, his ganie is up, — 
I*d with him breakfast, dine, and aiipi 
But since he chooses to withdraw, 
Good night t'yci Mounseer Nongtongpaw 1 


The ploughnaan whistles o'er the furrow, 

The hedger joins the vacant strain. 
The woodman sings the woodland thorough. 
The shepherd's pipe delights the plain: 
Where er the anxious eye can roam, 
Or ear receive the jocund pleasure^ 
Myriads of beings thronging flock 
Of nature* 3 song to join the measure, 
Till to keep time the village clock 
Sounds^ sweet, the labourer's welcome home. 

The hcanh swept clean his partner smiling, 

Upon the shining table smoke» 
The frugal meal ; while, time beguiling, 

The ale the harmless jest provokes^ 
Ye inmates of the lolly dome 

Admire his lot ; his children playing. 

To share iiis smiles^ around him flock | 
And faithful Tray, since morn that strayii^, 

Trudg'd with him till the village clocks 
Proclaimed the labourer's welcome home* 


1 he cheering fagot burnt to embers 

While lares round their vigils keep, 
That Power the poor and rich remembers 

Each thanks and then retires to sleep. 
And now the lark climbs heaven's high dome, 
Fresh from repose, toil's kind reliever, 

And furnish'd with his daily stock. 
His dog, his staff, his keg, his beaver, 

He travels, till the village clock 
Sounds, sweet, the labourer's welcome home. 


Did you ever hear of Captain Wattle ? 

He was all for love and a little for the bottle. 

We know not, though pains we have taken to enquire, 

If gunpowder he invented, or the Thames set on fire ; 

If to him was the centre of gravity known. 

The longitude, or the philosopher's stone ; 

Or whether he studied from Bacon or Boyle, 

Copernicus, Locke, Katerfelto, or Hoyle : 

But this we have learnt, with great labour and pain, 

That he loved Miss Roe and she loved him again. 

Than sweet Miss Roe none e'er look'd fiercer. 

She had but one eye, but that was a piercer. 

We know not, for certainty, her education. 

If she wrote, mended stockings, or settled the nation I 

At cards if she liked whist and swabbers cr voles, 

Or at dinner loved pig, or % steak on the coals ; 


Whether moit of the Sappho she waa, or Thalestrm 
Or if dancing was taught her by Hopkins or Vestrb ; 
But* for your satisfaction, this good news we obtain^ 
That she loved Captain Wattle and he loved her agab. 

When wedded he became lord and master depend on*t : 
H^ had but one leg^ but he'd a foot at the end on't. 
Which, of government^ when she would fain hold 

He look special caution should never lie idle ; 
So, like moat married folks^ 'twas my plague and 

And sometimes a kisaing and some times a kicking ; 
Then for comfort a cordial she*d now and tlieri try^ 
Alternately bunging or piping her eye ; 
And these facts of this couple the history contain^ 
For when he kicked Miss Roe she kick'd him again. 


Now we're all met here together^ 
In spite of wind and weather. 

To moisten well our clay ; 
Before we think of jogging 
Let's take a cheerful noggin. 

Whereas the waiter ? Ring away. 
Bring the glees and the catches i 
The tobacco-pipes and matehesi 




And plenty of brown stout. 
Get the glasses, ere we start *em, 
Let's proceed secundem artem^ 

Let the clerk all the names read out. 

** Gentlemen of the Quizzical Society, please to answer 
to your names. Farmer Scroggins ?'* " Why, I be here.*' 
—"Dr. Horseleach?" " Here."— " Parson Paunch?" 
"Here."— "Tailor Tit?" "Here."— So he goes on foi 
about twenty. At last, " You here ! are you all assem- 
bled?" "All, all, all, all, all." 

Then here's to you. Mister Wiggins, — 
Here's to you. Master Figgins ; 
So put the beer about. 

Come, tell us what the news is, 
Who wins and who loses, 

Of the times what do people say ? 
Hard, hard, the landlord racks us ; 
Then we've such a load of taxes. 

Indeed ! Well, how goes hay ? 
Why, now there's Master Wiseman, 
He told the exciseman 

That the cause of this pother and rout — 
Order, order, and sobriety! 
The rules of this society — 

Let the secretary read 'em out. 

" Every member of this society that spills his liquor 
in his neighbour's pocket shall forfeit two-pence. Every 
member of this society that singes his neighbour's wig 
with his pipe shall forfeit two-pence. Every member 
of this society that refuses to laugh at a good joke shaU 

forfeit two-penee. Every member of this society 
rGproacties hi a neighbour with coming to distress by 
unavoidable misfortunes shall forfeit two-pence.**— ^*Mn 
President^ 1 move that this forfeit be a shilling.*' " And 
second the motion." — "Are you all agreed?'* "I am, 
tinanimoiisly." "A noble resolution/' "D'ye 


Why, then, here*s to you, Mr, Figgins, — 
He re* a to youj Mr* Higgina ; 
So put the beer about. 

And now the potent liquor 
Not even spares the vicar, 

But in all their noddles mounts : 
While among this set of queer era. 
All talkers and no hearers. 

Each his favourite tale recounts ; 
The soldier talks of battle. 
The grazier sella his cattle^ 

Conversation to provoke \ 
Till the juice of the barrel 
Begets some curious quarrel, 

Wliile the company^s lost in smoke* 

Upon my soul, neighbour, I had no Itand in 
death of your wife ; it was all in the way of business.*' 
*'Nayt but Doctor, 'twere a cursed unneighbourly thing 
of you ; not that the woman were any sitcli great things, 
but to put a body to sitcb an expense.**^—'* Why, yon 
don*t tell me sol killed fifteen with ytJur own hand?'* 
"Firteenj by my laurela !** — "D*ye hear that, butclier?" 
"Hear it, yea; but I'll lay an what he dares, he has 
not killed so many as I by himdreds/* "Powder 

^H UUt 




whiskers !*' — " Come, come, gentlemen," says the bellows- 
maker, "no breezes!" "Let me exhort you to tem- 
perance," says the parson. "Amen!" says the clerk. 
"That's right," says the undertaker; "let us bury all 
animosity." "Now, that's what I like," says the fiddler; 
"I like to see harmony restored." D'ye, though? You 
like to see harmony restored? Why then 

Here's to you, Mr. Higgins,— 
Here's to yju, Mr. Wiggins ; 
So put the beer about. 


There were Farmer T washer, and he had a cow. 

And Gammer wert very fond on un; 
And they'd a son Jackey, that made a fine bow, 

So they sent un a prentice to London. 

lackey's master a barber and hair-dresser were, 
Than some squires 'cod he thought unself bigger ; 

In the day through the town he would cut and dress hair. 
And dress'd out at night— <;ut a figure. 

To ape Jackey's master were all his delight 

The soap-suds and razor both scorning ; 
He's been took't by the nose by the same fop at night 

That he took by the nose in the morning. 

^ow to Bi^fi^ow moan would have inSd^^aOaS 

Her milk were bis food late and early ; 
And even if Jackey had been her own calf. 

She could not ha loired un more dearly. 

She moan'd and ahe moan'd, nor knew what she did ailt 

To heart so she took tins disaster ; 
At last roaming about, some rogues cut off her tall. 

And then sent her back to her master. 

Here's the kiaw come home, GammeT, come bring out * 

Poor creature, Tze glad we have found her. 
Cried darae, tain't our cow, she's got never a tail ; 

Here, Roger, goo take her and pound her, 

Tis our kiaw, but you zee she's been maimed by sd 

Why^ dame, thou art a vool I Give me patience ! 
So to squabbling they went: when, to end the dispute, 

Came home Jackey to see his relations. 

His spencer he sported, his hat round he twirl'd, 

As whistling a tune he came bolt in ; 
lU bedock*d and belopp'd wounds [ he looked aU the 
Like trim bantums or magpies a-moulting. 

Oh dear ! 'tis our Jackey ; come, bring out the ale ; 

So Gammer fell skipping around him* 
Our Jackey, why, dam% he's got never a tail 1 

Here, Roger, go take un and pound him. 



*Tis the kick, I say, old one, so I brought it down, 
Wore by Jemmies so neat and so spunkey. 

Ah, Jackey ! thou went'st up a puppy to town, 
And now thou be'st come back a monkey. 

Gammer storm'd, GafFer swore, Jackey whistled, and now 

'Twas agreed, without any more passion. 
To take Jackey in favour as well as the cow, 

Because they were both in the fashion. 


Lectured by Pa and Ma o'er night : 

Monday, at ten, quite vex'd and jealous ; 
Resolv*d in future to be right. 

And never listen to the fellows : 
Stitch'd half a wristband, read the text. 

Received a note from Mrs. Racket ; — 
1 hate that woman, — she sat next. 

All church-time, to sweet Captain Clackit. 

Tuesday got scolded, did not care ; 

The toast was cold, *twas past eleven ; 
I dreamt the Captain through the air 

On Cupid's wings bore me to heaven. 
Pouted and dined, dress'd, look'd divine. 

Made an excuse, got Ma to back it ; 
Went to the play,— what joy was mine ! 

Talked loud and laugh'd with Captam Clackit, 

Wednesday came down, no lark ao g&y | 

Tlie girl's quite alter'd, said my mother ; 
Cried Dad, I recollect the day 

When, dearee^ thou wert such another. 
Danced, drew a landscape, skimm'd a play; 

In the paper read that widow Flackit 
To Gretna Green had run away — 

The forward minx ! — with Captain Clack ft. 

Thursday fell sick; — poor soul, f he'll die! 

Five doctors carae* with lengthened faces ; 
Each felt my pulse 1 — Ah* me ! cried T, 

Are these my promised loves and graces ? 
Friday grew worse ; cried Ma in pain, 

Our day was fair; Heaven, do not black it : 
Where*a your complaint, love ? In my brain* 

What shall I give yoa ? Captain Clackit^ 

Early next mom a nostrum came, 

Worth all their cordials, balms, and spicei-— 
A letter : — I had been to blame ; — 

The Captain's truth brought on a crisis. 
Sunday, for fear of more delay St 

Of a few clothes I made a packet^ 
And, Monday morn, stepp'd in a chaise^ 

And ran away with Captain Clackit. 




Old Mary, her poor husband dead 

And buried but a week, 
Tired of her fate, with hobbling gait, 

The parson went to seek, 
I'll tell you, sir, says she, the truth, 

My poor man's dead and gone ; 
Our servant John's a comely youth,— 

Ought I to marry John ? 
The parson cried, who quickly knew 

She*d not his counsel hear, 
The proverb tells you what to do 

This knotty point to clear. 
** As the fool thinks. 
So the bell tinks;" 
So, when the bells shall ring anon, 

Take care you don't mistake the sound ; 

They'll tell you, as the peal goes round, 
If you should marry John. 

Now Mary listens to each bell,— . 

" Hey ! that's a knell that toU'd ! 
'Tis not for me, thank Heaven! well, well, 

I'm not yet q>uite so old. 
But of a burying should you think, 

They say a wedding's near ; 
1 hope the bells will sweetly tink 

That I should wed my deat.*^ 

At lengtb the rmgers rouse her hopes, 

And all her senses cliarm. 
And as they singly puU the ropes 

Her aged blood gete warm : 
"But as the fool thinks 
So the bell ttnks ;'' 
And now the sprightly peal comas on, 

While Mary, as they tug away, 

Cries, *' Lovely bells ; how plain they say^ 
Do, Mary, marry John !" 

Now at both ends the candle's burn'd: 

She^3 beggar 'd to a souse ; 
Each ihint^ is topsy-turvy turnM, 

Out of the w^indow goes the house. 
"I cannot this distress survive; 

What scandle and disgrace ! 
Would my first husband were alive, 

Or I were in his place! 
A curse upon the fatal day 

I listened to the bells 
That took my reason quite away, 

Just like so many spells; 

*But, as the fool thinks, 
So the bell links \' 
Why, what must I be thinking on, 

To fancy as they rang away. 

The bells so stupid were, to say 
That I should marry John ?" 

Straight to the parson Mary goes, 

And soundly lays it on : 
You are the cause of all my woes. 

You married me to io\TL. 


"Nay, nay, to lay the blame on me. 

Good Mary, is unkind ; 
I never yet advised the sea, 

A woman, or the wind. 
Hark, hark ! the bells are ringing now— 

They sound -with might and main ; 
I what they sav can hear. Canst thon ?'* 

** I hear 'em* sir, too plain. 
' But ^s the fool thinks. 
So tbq bell tinks :' 
But folly 'twas J5^ me on, 

Intent upop my foolish freak ;— 

They cry, as plain as they can speak. 
Don't, Mary, marry John." 


As pensive one night in my garret I sate, 

My last shilling produced on the table ; 
That advent'rer, cried I, might a hist'ry relate. 

If to think and to speak it were able. • 
Whether fancy or magic 'twas play'd me the freak, 

The face seem'd with life to be filling, 
And cried, instantly speaking, or seeming to speak. 

Pay attention to me thy last shilling. 

I was once the last coin of the law a sad limb, 
Who in cheating was ne'er known to faulter ; 

•fill at length, brought to justice, the law cheated him. 
And he paid me to buy him a halter : 

A Jack Tar, all bis rluno but me at an end. 

With a pleasure so hearty and willmg, 
Though hungry himseir, to a poor diatreHa*d friend, 

Wiab'd it hundreds, and gave his last sliilling. 

'Twas the wrfe of hia messmate, whose glisteniiig eye 

With pleasure ran o'er as she view'd me \ 
She chang*d me for bread, as her child abe heard cr 

And at parting with tears she bedew'd me< 
Bm IVe other scenes known, riot leading the way, 

Fale want their poor families chilling; 
Where rakes, in their revels the piper to pay^ 

Have spurned me, their best friend and last shillingT 

Thouj thyself has been tlioughtlesij for profligates bail, 

But to-morrow all care shall thou bury 
When my little history thou offerest for sale ; 

In the interim, spend me and be merry! 
Never, never, cried I, thouVt my Mentor, my ntuse. 

And, grateful thy dictates fulfilling^ 
ril hoard thee in my heart : — thus men counsel refuse, 

'Till the lecture comes from the last shilling* 


Mak, poor forked animal, why art thou vain t 
Of thy form, that so matcliless the Deity owns, 

Where beauty, proportion, and symmetry reign, 
Adding grace to distinction, and splendour to fhroaesf 




While, by folly and fashion, this form so divine 
Is abused 'till all figures fantastic it wears, 

Till worn by diseases, and bloated by wine, 

Men, the Deity's image, turn monkeys and bears. 

A mass of remorse, of reflection, of pain, 

Man, poor forked animal, why art thou vain? 

Art vain of thy mind ? still, the Deity there. 

Where virtues angelic their natures impress, 
Pale anguish to chase, smooth the brow of despair, 

And with charity's hand dry the tear of distress. 
While this generous mind, on beneficence bent. 

Fair gratitude's height shall in vain strive to climb, 
And those lavish'd riches so liberally meant, 

'Stead of virtue rewarding shall sanctify crime. 
While philanthropy gives disappointment to gain, 
Man, poor restless animal, why art thou vain ? 

Take the rational mean. If thou'rt proud of thy fomif 

Let health given by temperance glow in thy face ,' 
Let simplicity's hand, as it decks every charm, 

To decorum add neatness, to decency grace. 
Then to temper thy mind neither tower nor stoop, 

Nor with sordidness grovel nor arrogance ride ; 
Be not niggard nor lavish, a churl nor a dupe, 

But let prudence the hand of benevolence guide. 
Thus in form and in heart shall the Deity reign ; 
Thus reason shall teach, and thus man shall be vain. 



Mat Mcdge, the sexton of our town. 

Though oft a little heady, 
The drink not so his wits could drown 

But some excuse was ready, 
Mat said the par g on loved a sup, 

And eke also the derk ; 
And then it kept hh spirits up 
"Mongst spirits in the dark : 
Swore 'twas his predecessor's fault, 

A cursed drunken fellow,*— 
The very bells to ring he taught, 
As if they all were mellow , 
Hark ! hark ! cried he, in tipsy peal, 
Like roaring topers as they reel ; 
Hark! what a druoken pother : 
Another cup, and then — What then ?— Anotlier#" 

For good news Mat got drunk for joy» 

If he could beg or borrow f 
Did anything his tnind annoy 

He drank to drown his sorrow t 
Thus he*d rejoice or he*d condole, 

Cried Mat be* t joy or griefi 
As the song says^ the flowing bowl 

Still gives the mind relief, 

*Twas all my predecessor's fault, &c* 


Were peace the theme and all its channs, 

Mat fiird the sparkling noggin : 
If war, he drank — May British arms 

Still give the foe a flogging. 
The parson once took Mat to task. 

Bid him beware the bowl ; 
Your pardon I most humbly ask, 

Cried he, but *pon my soul, 

*Twas all my predecessor's fault, &c. 

And then no liquor came amiss, 

Wherever he could forage • 
That gave him spirits, wisdom this. 

And t'other gave him courage. 
Thus was he merry and jocose. 

If fortune smiled or frown'd : 
And when he fairly got his dose. 

And all the things turn'd round. 

Swore 'twas his predecessor's fault, &e. 


WiD my Lor Anglois I came over un valet» 
From my own country to 'scape the galley : 
By'm by, grow rich, I teach the ballet. 

All while I play mine fittle. 
A little I earn, a little I sheat, 
A little sometime I lodge in the Fleet, 
A little I roll in my shariot the street. 

And I ogle the girls a little. 

T go de governess de school 

I want to teach, you know de rulej 

I find de governess no foolt 

Slje say I Veil, pring your fittk. 
A little I go and I teach de dance, 
A little they jompe, a littk they prance j 
By and by, when I took a little entrance. 

The governess touch a little* 

To the dinner they ask this man such merit, 
1 stuff the turtle, the beef, and the carrot ; 
And with the ale, the pimch, and the claret, 

t figure away the first fittle^ 
A little giTe toast, 'bout politic bawl^ 
A Httle they sjng, tol, lol, de rol, lol; 
So my ticket I sell while I sing small, 

And pocket de ginnay a Httle. 

By'm by he come grand benefice. 

Where the aunt, and the mother, the daughter, die 

niece ; 
Everybody good nature, »o come to be fleece. 

While X scrape away de fittle* 
A little they jompe, a little they jig, 
A little de lady some time lose hts wigi 
While their head grow empty, my purse he grow Tb|g, 

And I take in the flat a little. 

er, tm 
re, H 


So den, at last, my scholar he flock. 
That I get my banker, and piiy de stock ? 
And their head for good sense in vain they may knocl 
I drive it all out with my fittle. 


A little I flash at the opera, de play, 
In my shariot a little I figure away ; 
And keep, like myself, un damn'd rogue de valet, 
To laugh at the English a little. 


Mother were dead, and sister were married. 

And nobody at home but father and I ; 
So I thought, before I longer tarried. 

To get a good wife my fortune I*d try : 
But I swore she the moral should be of my mother, 

For ne'er was a better wife und^r the sky ; 
So we mounted our nags to find out such another. 

And we set out a courting. Father and I. 

Farmer Chaff have a darter that's famous for breeding ; 

She do daunce, and do play, and do sing, and do write : 
But she never would talk, she were always a reading 

'Bout ravishments, devils, and ghostes in white. 
Woons! says I, at that fun you won't find me a good onoj 

To be mine, girl, far other guess fish thou must fry ; 
The wife for my money must make a good pudding. 

So we'll wish you good morning. Father and I. 

As to Lunnun, to manage like other folks scorning. 
They sat down to breakfast when we went to sup ; 

At midnight they dined, and they supp'd in the morning, 
And went to bed Just at the time we %o\ \v^\ 


Then so poor, but that I had no heart to make fun cm. 

They could not afford any covering to buy ; 
So shivering with cold we the girls left in Lunnun, 
And came back to the country, Father and I, 

Bat, Lord ! farmers* gnh be as bad as their betters. 

Poor prudence and decency left m the lurch : 
They paints pictures and faces, writes stories and lei 

And dresses Yike sheets standing up iti a chtirch, 
* Stead of sitting at home shirts and table-cloths darning, 

Or pickling of cabbage, or making a pie, 
All the clodpoles are standing astound at their laming, 

Sad wives for the likes of Father and 1 1 


So just as we did not know what to be arter, 

**Odds wo una!" cried out father, **a neighbour of 
Died a twelvemonth ago, left a sister and darter, 

And they both can milk cows and make gooseberry 
On to see *em we went — this fell out^n a Monday- — 

Neither stood shilly-shally, look'd foolish or shy : 
The licence were bought, and the very next Sunday 

They were both of them married to Father and I* 


Pm jolly Dick the lamplighter. 

They say the Sun*s my dad? 
And truly 1 believe it, sir, 
*^ar Vtci a ^icettY tad. 


Father and I the world do light, 

And make it look so gay, — 
The difference is, I lights by night 

And father lights by day. 

But Father's not the likes of I 

For knowing life and fun, 
For I queer tricks and fancies spy 

Folks never show the sun. 
Rogues, owls, and bats can't bear the light, 

I've heard your wise ones say ; 
And so, d'ye mind, I sees at night 

Things never seen by day. 

At night men lay aside all art 

As quite a useless task, 
And many a face and many a heart 

Will then throw off the mask : 
Each formal prude and holy wight 

Will throw disguise away, 
And sin it openly all night 

Who sainted it all day. 

His darling hoard the miser views, 

Misses from friends decamp. 
And many a statesmen mischief brews 

To his country o'er his lamp. 
So Father and I, d'ye take me right. 

Are just on the same lay ; 
I barefaced sinners light by night. 

And he false saints by day. 


3oME all jolly topers ! the toast as ye pass, 

Who have sworn to keep Bacchus's laws. 
The conditions repeat, lay your hands on the glass 

And vindicate wine and its cause* 
Si^ long as the power of generous wine 

Shall the practice of honour inspire, 
Our affections and passions to rule and refine, 

As |Told issues pure from t!ie fire — 
So long o'er the mind may its empire extend, 
And the generous hottle he every man's fViend« 

While in brisk circulation it genially glows 

Through each sluice o£ the heart in full speed. 
Turning sourness to milk in the veins as it fiows, 

The children of sorrow to feed : 
Whtlc its libVal influence to honour so dear> 

With such pity the heart shall impress, 
As with Charity's hand to wipe off the sad tear 

That glistens to mark our distress — 
So long o'er the mind may its empire extend^ 
And the generous bottle be every man^s friendi 

But when in the glass the fiend Envy sliall lurk, 
Her foul train waiting near at her call, 

On the credulous mind to achieve her fell work. 
And the milk of the heart turn to gall : 


Then may wine change to poison, and each cank'rous elf, 

Detected, ashaioed, and alone, 
Despised by the world, and despised by himself, 

By death for its errors atone : 
So shall wine to the last serve humanity's end. 
And the generous bottle be every man's friend. 


Come all ye gem'men volunteers. 

Of glory who would share, 
And, leaving with your wives your fears. 

To the drum-head repair ; 
Or to the noble Sergeant Pike 

Come, come, without delay,— 

You'll enter into present pay ; 
My lads the bargain strike. 
A golden guinea and a crown. 
Besides the Lord knows what renown, 

Her Majesty the donor ; 
And if you die, 
Why then you lie 

Stretch'd on the bed of honour. 

Does any 'prentice work too hard If 

Fine clothes would any wear ? 
Would any one his wife discard? 

To the drum-head repair ; 
Or to the, &c. 

> your estate put out to nurse t 

Are you a cast-ofF heir ? 
Have you no money in your purse? 

To the drum-head repair; 
Or to the, &c. 


One negro wi my banjer, 

Me from Jenny come, 

Wid cunning yiei 

Me savez spy 

De buckra world one hum, 

As troo a street a stranger 

Me my banjer strum. 

My missy for one black dog about the house me kick. 
Him say my nassy tawny face enough to make him sick ; 
But when my massa he go out, she then no longer rail, 
For first me let the captain in, and then me tell no tale. 
So aunt Quashy say, 
Do tabby, brown, or black, or white, 
You see 'em in one night, 
Every sort of cat be gray. 
One negro, &c. 


To fetch a lilly money back you go to law they call, 
The court and all the tie-wig soon strip you shirt and all. 
The courtier call him friend him foe, 

And fifty story tell ; 
To-day say yes, to-morrow no, 

And lie like any hell ; 
And so, though negro black for true 
He black in buckra country too. 
One negro, &c. 


My name, d*ye see, 's Tom Tough, I Ve seen a little sarvice 

Where mighty billows roll and loud tempests blow ; 
Pve sail'd with gallant Howe, I've sail'd with noble Jarvis* 
And in valiant Duncan's fleet I've sung out Yo, heave 

Yet more ye shall be knowing, — 
I was coxon to Boscawen, 
And even with brave Hawke have I nobly faced the foe* 
Then put round the grog, — 
So we've that and our prog, 
We'll laugh in Care's face, and sing Yo, heave ho ! 

When from my love to part I first weigh'd anchor. 
And she was sniv'ling seed on the beecli below, 

I'd like to cotch'd my eyes sniv'ling too, d'ye see, to thank 
But I brought up my sorrows with a Yo^ Vve-vi^ WV 

For sailors, though they have their jokeg* 

And love and feel like other folks, 
eir duty to neglect must not come for to go ; 
So I seisced the caps tain bar. 
Like a true honest tar, 
^d, in spite of tears and sighs, sung out Yo, heave ho I 

lit the worst on' I: waa that time when the little ones wi 

And if they'd hve or die the doctor did not know ; 
The word was gov'd to weigh so sudden and so qulcklY|l 
I thought my heart would break as I sung YO| heave ho* 
For PoU's so Hke her mother, 
And as for Jack, her brother. 
The boy when he grows up will nobly face the foe ; 
But ill Providence I tru3t» 
For yon see what must be must^ 
So my sighs I gave the winds and sung out Yo, heave ho ! 

And now at last laid up in a decentish condition, 

For I've only lost an eye, and got a timber toe ; 
But old ships must expect in time to be out of commissi^ 
Nor again the anchor weigh with Yo, heave ho J 

So I smoke my pipe and sing oM songs,^^ 
My boys shall well revenge my wrongs, 
And my girls shall breed young sailors, nobly for to fac 
the foe; — • 

Then to country and king, 
Fate can no danger bring, 
le the tars of Old Eni^dand sing out Yo, heave ho J 



Like Etna's dread volcano see the ample forge 
Large heaps upon large heaps of jetty fuel gorgei 
While, salamander-like, the pond*rous anchor lies 
Glutted with vivid fire thro* all its pores that flies ; 
The dingy anchorsmiths, to renovate their strength, 
Stretched out in death-like sleep are snoring at their length, 
Waiting the master's signal when the tackle's force 
Shall, like split rocks, the anchor from the fire divorce ; 
While as old Vulcan's Cyclops did the anvil bang. 
In deafening concert shall their pond'rous hammers clang, 
And into symmetry the mass incongruous beat. 
To save from adverse winds and waves the gallant British 

Now, as more vivid and intense each splinter flies, 
The temper of the fire the skilful master tries ; 
And, as the dingy hue assumes a brilliant red. 
The heated anchor ieeas mat nre on which it fed : 
The huge sledge-hammers round in order they arrange, 
And waking anchorsmiths await the look'd-for change, 
Longing with all their force the ardent mass to smite. 
When issuing from the fire arrayed in dazzling white ; 
And, as old Vulcan's Cyclops did the anvil bang. 
To make in concert rude their pond'rous hammers clang, 
So the misshapen lump to symmetry they beat. 
To save from adverse winds and waves the gallant British 

The preparations thicken ; with forks the fire they goad; 
And now twelve anchorsmiths the heaving bellows load ; 
While arm*d from every danger, and in grim array, 
Anxious as howling demons waiting for their prey : 
The forge the anchor yields from out its fiery maw. 
Which, on the anvil prone, the cavern shouts hurraw ! 
And now the scorch*d beholders want the power to gaze, 
Faint with its heat, and dazzled with its powerful rays ; 
While, as old Vulcan's Cyclops did the anvil bang 
To forge Jove's thunderbolts, their pond'rous hammers 

And, till its fire's extinct, the monstrous mass they beat 
To save from adverse winds and waves the gallant British 









nelson's gloat— the CABUfST, 8cc. fcc. 


[Gratefully inscribed to the Hon. Edmund Bync] 

Would you know the ingredients that make up a tar ? 

Take of courage and truth quantum stff; 
A soul, unsubdued by toil, tempest, and war ; 

And a body of durable stuff; 
A temper quite easy — yet firm in a squall — 

When Boreas that blustering railer, 
Blows great guns, that shiver stays, braces, and all, — 

Save die heart of a true British sailor 1 

Would you know what their heart is composed of? Just 

All that friendship and love know of feeling 
For sweetheart, or mate in distress, for whose sake 

He'd stand firm were the universe reeling! 


Too proud to complain, be his lot e'er so low ; 

Show him want ! with his best he*ll regale her ; 
Oppress him ! and Jack's but a word and a blow 

From the heart of a true British sailor ! 

About sympathy, Jack he knows nothing at all, 

Though he practises all its sweet duty ; 
Of purse-proud assurance whilst taking the wall. 

He yields it to age, worth, and beauty ! 
His ship is his glory — ^his captain a king. 

Whose fiat ne*er finds him a failer ! 
Call ye that degradation ? 'tis no such a thing 

In the heart of a true British sailor ! 

Then mingle whate'er ye deem manly or mild^ 

Tough, tender, keen, yet unsuspicious ; 
The nerve of a hero, the sigh of a child,^ 

All that nature esteems most delicious ; 
Fire the cauldron of Fancy, and put in all these. 

Envy's malice shall nothing avail her. 
When she finds all on earth that can warm, charm, and 

In the heart of a true British sailor ! 

[The Music of the above Song, which is copj^ght, may be had of the 
Composer; Mr. Williams, 2, Trafalgar Square, Charing Cross.] 


O, LIFE is an ocean, where tempests from far 

Endanger our peace and repose ; 
And care fires his broadsides to keep up the war 

With the passions, our natural foes. 


What tack shall we try, then ? for safety where run ? 

How fly from the breakers of fate ? 
What harbour from sorrow ? I know but of one — 

My anchor and compass is Kate. 

False friendship oft changes a calm to a storm ; 

Love's frowns may give birth to a squall : 
Dissension the sweet calm of peace may deform ; 

To be poor, is worse weather than all ! 
Then how to find shelter? what course shall we steer ? 

Good sense be my master and mate ; 
True love be my pilot, then what need I fear, 

When my anchor and compass is Kate? 

Of your purse-strings the doctor may haul in a reef, 

The lawyer steer close to the mark ; 
But, for all their fine tricks, 'tis my honest belief 

One's a grampus, the other a shark. 
I'hen keep your helm steady, boys, thus, and go clear 

A-midways, though danger be great ; 
Neither rocks, shoals, nor quicksands, nor breezes« I'll 

While my anchor and compass is Kate. 

Should prosperity fill ye an o*erswelling sail. 

Haul down a top-gallant or two ; 
Should adversity blow, and you'd weather the gale. 

Work at industry's pumps till all's blue. 
Should your crew be increased by dad Hymen, what then f 

Let such blessings come early or late, 
To me all are welcome, though eight, nine, or ten, 

Whil'^ my anchor and compass is Kate. 


[Composed by Mr. WiUiamftJ 

SaTp gallant saldier, do I see 

The CDmrade who on Egypt's sands 
DasbM forward side by side with me 

And charged thro' GalHa'a fiercest bands f 
When Abercronjbie at our head 
Resistless ledi and when he bledl 
In victory resign*d his sword 
To death ! and dying gave the word ! 
" Albion adored i we fight for thee I 
Our watchword — Home and Victory '" 


Say, brother soldier, was it you 

Fonght nfiiit me on that glorious day 
When Wellington at Waterloo 

The Gallic eagle bore aw^ay? 
Whtn, ere the awful fight began^ 
One feeling ran from man to man 1 
And as each phalanx drew the sword. 
From rank to rank thus pass'd the word ! 
*' Albion adored I we fight for thc^e ' 
Our watchword,- — Home and Victory ♦ 


Yes ( brother soldi er^ we have seen 

Together sanguine wars imbue, 
With purple tide, the laurels green 
Of conqu'ror and of conquer 'd too ' 
** Albion adored I we fought for thee ! 
Our watchword, — ^Home and Victory I 



[Composed by Mr. WttliainB.] 


Shades of Britannia's sons, who slbep 
In hallow'd earth !— or in the deep ! 
Spirits of patriots dead — who fell — 
Inspire me ! while a hero's fate I telU 


The martial strife is heard once more, 

Again the din of war now reigns, 
On that far-famed Columbian shore 

Where blood o'erflow'd Canadian plains. 
Wolfe ! dauntless Wolfe ! who boldly led 

Of gallant chiefs a patriot band. 
And in the arms of victory bled — 

For ** Freedom and his Native Land !" 
The foe did thrice his force display; 
Yet thrice was conquer'd on that day ! 

No father e'er his children loved. 

No children more revered a sire, 
Beyond what Britain's hero proved, 

'Mid Gallia's fierce, unceasing fire ! 
His shatter'd wrist he calmly binds. 

While cheerly " Onward!" was his cry — 
A second shot his heart now finds ; 

And Victory mourns that Wolfe must die { 
Then, raise to him the patriot lay. 
In Victory's arms who fell that day ! 



Daddy Neptune^ one day to Freedom did say. 

If ever I lived upon dry landi 
Tlie spot I should hit on would be little Britain ! 
Says Freedom, *' Why that*a my owa island ♦'* 
O, it*s a snug little island! 
A right little, tight little island 1 
Search tlie globe round, none can be fatinil 
So happy as this little island* 

Julius Csesar the Homan, wbo yielded to no man, 

Came by water, ^— he couldn't come b^ land ; 
And Dane, Pict, and Saxon, their bomes tum'd their baekl 
And all for the sake of our island, 
O, what a snug little island ; 
They'd all have a touch at the island! 
Some were shot dead^ some of them fled. 
And some stayed to live on the island* 

Then a very great war-man, called Billy the Norman. 

Cried D — n it^ I never liked my land ; 
It would be much more handy, to leave this Normafi 
And live on yon beautiful island. 
Says he, 'tis a snug little island ; 
Shan't us go visit the island ? 
Hop, skip, and a jump, there he was plump, 
And he kickM up a dust in the island* 

But party deceit, help'd the Norman's to beat ; 

Of traitors they managed to buy land ; 
By Dane, Saxon, or Pict, Britons ne'er had been lick*d 

Had they stuck to the King of their island* 


Poor Harold, the king of the island ! 
He lost hoth his life and his island. 
That's very true ; what more could he do ? 
Like a Briton he died for his island ! 

The Spanish Armada set out to invade-a, 
Quite sure, if they ever come nigh land, 
They couldn't do less than tuck up Queen Bess, 
And take their full swing in the island. 
Oh, the poor Queen of the island ! 
The Dons came to plunder the island ; 
But, snug in her hive, the Queen was alive, 
And huzz was the word in the island. 
These proud puff'd-up cakes thought to make ducks and 
Of our wealth ; but they hardly could spy land, 
When our Drake had the luck to make their pride duck 
And stoop to the lads of the island ! 
Huzza for the lads of the island ! 
The good wooden walls of the island ; 
Devil or Don, let 'em come on ; 
And see how they'd come o^at the island! 

Since Freedom and Neptune have hitherto kept time, 

In each saying, " This shall be my land ;" 
Should the " Army of England," or all it could bring, land, 
We'd show 'em some play for the island. 
We'd fight for our right to the island ; 
We'd give them enough of the island ; 
Invaders should just — bite 9t the dust, 
But not a bit more of the niand 


[Air.—** Meg of WappiTig/'] 

Ik the midst of the sea, like a tougli man of war. 

Pull away, pull away, yo ho there ! 
Stands an island surpassing all t glands by far ; 

If you doubt it, you've only to go there. 
By Neptune *twa3 built upon Freedom*s firm base> 

And for ever * twill last, IVe a notion; 
All the world T defy to produce such a place ; 

Pull away, pull away, pull away, pull, J say ; 
As the neat bit of land in the ocean. 

From the opposite shore, puff'd witli arrogant pride, 

Pull away» pull away so clever ! 
TheyVe oft swore as how they would cotne alongside* 

And destroy the poor island for ever. 
But Brkannia is made of such durable stuff, 

And so tightly she's rigg'd, I've a notion, 
SheM soon give the saucy invaders enough ) 

Pull away, pull away, pull away^ pull, I say I 
Should they touch at the land in the ocean^ 

There was Howe, ever bold in the glorious cause, 

Pull away, pull away, so stout boys ] 
Who gain*d on the first day of June such applatiset 

And put every foe to the rout, boys, 
The next w^as St, Vincent, who kicked up a dust. 

As the Spaniards can tell, Tve a notion ; 
For they swore not to strike; layB he, '*DamiMe but yoi 
must f ' 

Pull away, pull away, pull away, pull, I say t 
To the lads of tlio land in the ocean. 


Adam Duncan came next; 'twas in autumn, you know, 

Pull away, pull away, so jolly, 
That he made big Mynheer strike his flag to a foe 

Against whom all resistance was folly : 
And they sent, as you know, if your not quite a dunce, 

But a sad story home, I've a notion; 
So Duncan he beat a whole Winter at once, 

Pull away, pull away, pull away, pull, I sayl 
What d'ye think of the land in the ocean? 

Next the Frenchmen again they came in for their share, 

Pull away, pull away, so hearty ! 
For Nelson he set all the world in a stare, 

And land-lock'd the great Bonaparte. 
Then he beat them again, when with Spain they combined, 

Till they all were done up, I've a notion ; 
When victory's sword did the olive entwine ; 

Pull away, pull away, pull away, pull, I say 
And peace crown'd the land in the ocean ! 


[Composed by John Braham.] 

'Tisn't the jacket or trousers blue. 

The song or the grog so cheerly. 
That show us the heart of a seaman true, 

Or tell us his manners sincerely. 
*Tis the hour of strife, when venturing life. 

Where the spirit of prudence might fail her, 
In battle he'll sing for Britannia and king, 

And this shows the heart of a sailor ! 

Tisn*t his merninent liindled ashore* 

By the cash oft too quickly expended ; 
'Tisn*l his going to sea for more, 

When the store in the locker is ended. 
*Tis the hour of distress, when mjsfortiinea oppre: 

And irirtue finds sorrow assatl her ; 
Tis tlie bosom of ^rJef made glad by relief. 

That pictures the heart of a sailor! 


Stop ! shipmate, stop I He can't be dead 

His lay yet lives to memory dear; 
His spirit^ merely shot a-head, 

Will yet command Jack*s smile and tear ! 
Still in my ear the songs resound, 

That stcmm'd Rebellion nt the Noret 
Avast! each hope of mirth's aground^ 

Should Charley he indeed no more ! 

The evening watch, the sounding lead, 

Will sadly miss old Ch^jrley's line, 
Saturday night may go to bed, 

His sun is set no more to shine i 
" Sweethearts and Wive.^,*' though we may aing^ 

And toast at sea the girls on shore; 
Yet now 'tis quite another thing, 

Since Charley spins the yam no more* 

Jack Rattlin*s story now who'll tell ? 

Or chronicle each boatswain brave ? 
The sailor's kind historian fell 

With him who sung the soldier's grave I 
Poor Jack ! Tom Bowling ! but, belay » 

Starboard and larboard, aft and fore. 
Each from his brow may swab the spray, 

Since tuneful Charley is no more ! 

The capstan, compass, and the log. 

Will oft his muse to memory bring ; 
And when all hands wheel round the grogc 

They'll drink and blubber as they sing. 
For grog was often Charley's theme, 

A double spirit then it bore ; 
It sometimes seems to me a dream. 

That such a spirit is no more. 

It smooth'd the tempest, cheer'd the calii. 

Made each a hero at his gun ; 
It even proved for foes a balm. 

Soon as the angry fight was done. 
Then, shipmate, check that rising sign 

H<t's only gone a-head before ; 
For even foremast men must die, 

As well as Charlev, now no morei 


[Miisic by John Daf y.] 

When Vulcan forged the bolts of Jpve 

In Etna's roaring glow, 
Neptune petitioned he might prove 

Their use and power below ; 
But finding in tl^e boundless deep 
Their thunders did but idly sleep, 
He with them arm'd Britannia's hand. 
To guard from foes her native land* 

Long may she own the glorious right, 

And when through circling flame 
She darts her thunder in the tighti 

May justice guide her aim ! 
And when opposed in future wars, 
Her soldiers brave and gallant tars 
Shall launch her fires from every hand 
On every foe to Britain's land* 


Neaw Kew one mom was Peter bom, 

At Limehouse educated; 
1 learnt lo pull of Simon Skulli 

And a tightish lad was rated* 


For coat and badge I*d often try, 
And when first oars, 'twas who but 1 ; 
While the pretty girls would archly cry, 
" O didn't you hear of a jolly young waterman 

Who at Blackfriars' Bridge used for to ply ? 
He feather'd his oars with such skill and dexterity, 

Winning each heart, and delighting each eye." 

When grown a man I soon began 

To quit each boyish notion : 
With old Benbow I swore to go, 

And tempt the roaring ocean. 
Ten years I sarved with him or nigh, 
And saw the gallant hero die; 
Yet 'scaped each shot myself, for why,— 

"There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft. 

To keep watch for the life of poor Jack !** 

To Italy a great grandee 

Brought me through fortune's steerage, 
By chance of war a British tar 

May meet Italian peerage. 
Now hither sent by friends unkind, 
And in this island close confined, 
I sigh for that I've left behind, 
Because it's a nice little island. 
" A right little, tight little island : 

May its commerce increase, 

And the blessings of peace 
Long glad every heart in the island I" 



[Composed by BmHajn.] 

*TwAs on the spot in ancient lore oft named 
Where Isis and Osiris once held sway 
0*er kings who skep in pyramidic pHde s 
But, now for British valour far more famed, 
Since Nelson *s band achieved a glorious day, 
And graced by conquest Abercrombie died t 


let orient colours the dawn had not spread 
O'er a field that stem slaughter had tinted too red ; 
All was dark, save one flash at the cannon's harsli sound, 
When the brave Abercrombie received his death-wound I 
His comrades with grief unaffected deplore, 
Though to Albion's renown he gave one laurel Tnore. 

With a mind unaiibdued still the foe he defied, 
On a steed which the hero of Acre supplied ; 
'Till feeling he soon to fate's sumnnons must yield. 
He gave Sidney the ^word he no longer could wield. 
His comrades with grief unaffected deplore. 
Though to Britain^s renown he gave one laurel more- 

The standard of Britain, by victory crown 'd, 

Wav'd over hia head while he sank on the ground , 

**Take me hence, my brave friends!" he exdainieti wiil^^ 

a sigh r 
* My duty's complete, and contented 1 die f" 



[Music by Reeve.] 

Your London girls, with all their airs, 
Must strike to Poll of Wapping Stairs ; 

No tighter lass is going. 
From Iron Gate to Limehouse Hole 
You*lJ never meet a kinder soul : 

Not while the Thames is flowing. 

And sing Pull away, &c. 

Her father, he's a hearty dog, 

Poll makes his flip, and sarves his grog, 

And never stints his measure; 
She minds full well the house aflairs, 
She seldom drinks, and never swears ; 

And isn't that a pleasure ? 

Pull away, &c. 

And when we wed, that happy time. 
The bells of Wapping all shall chime ; 

And, ere we go to Davy, 
The girls like her shall work and sing. 
The boys like me shall sarve the king. 

On board Old England's Navy ! 

And sing Pull away, &c. 



[Composed bj B|-jJiaxia>] 

ESEKTED by the waning tnooHj 
When tkies proclaim night*s cheerless nooOf 
On tower, fort^ or tented ground, 
1 he sentry walks his lonely round ; 
And should some footstep haply stray. 
Where caution marks the guarded way: 
r** Who goes there? Stranger, quickly tell !" 

A Friend !"— *' The word ?"— -*' Good nighU All's weD 1" 

T sailing oo the midnight deep. 
When weary niessmatea roundly sleep, 
The careful watch patrols the deck. 
To guard the ship from foes or wreck ; 
Afld while his thoughts oft homeward veer. 
Some well-known voice salutes his ear : 
** Who goes thera? Brotheri quickly tell I" 
" Above ! Below 1'*^" Good night t AlFs well i" 

[The Huaic of thk SoxLg nmf he bad at Messrs. Fardaj^, Holbgm,] 

Tbk sea was rough, the clouds were dark 

Far distant every joy. 
When, forced by fortune to embark, 

I went a Cabin Boy, 

My purse soon fill'd with Frenchmen's gold^ 

I hastened back with joy. 
When, wreck 'd in sight of port| behoJd 
The hapless Cabin Boy 1 



Most respectfully dedicated to Benjamin Boyd, Esq., owner of af 
beautlfiLl a British brig yacht as ** ever walked the water.-'] 

Air — ''Away with this pouting and sadness." 

Moobe's Melodies. 

Come, lads, here's good luck to the purser 

As long as he finds us in grog ; 
And though growlers say " Times can't be wdrset," 

We*ll keep up hilarity's log ! 
Though a rolling stone cynics may tell us, 

Is famed for not gathering moss. 
Its absence to wandering fellows 

Like us can scarce be deem'd a loss. 
While through each change of scene 'tis our notion 

For air, health, and pleasure to roam. 
We ofl drink in port on the ocean, 

" The Wanderer always at home," 

She skims o'er the surge like a fairy. 

With wonder while land-lubbers gaze ; 
No lady, though lissome and airy. 

Is smarter than she is in stays. 
So ship-shape she graces the water, 

Of the crew she's the love, pride, and joy ; 
And Love too has boarded her quarter, 

For she's sometimes attached to a Buoy. 
While through each change of ftceiift^ %t^<> 

You may talk of the breeze and the battle. 

For neither has she any feara^ 
Were great guns to blow, or shot rattle, 

She'd meet *em with three jolly cheer a. 
^Tis alike whether beating or running, 

There's none can this crafi overtake; 
They may try all their steering and cunniiig, 

Bnt they'll soon be asleep in her wake. 
Through each change, &c- 

She*s placid and calm in fair weather. 

Or, when storms would her hull oVrwhelni^ 
She rides o^er the wave like a feather, 

And readily answers the helm. 
With idleness ever untainted, 

A housewife from taffrail to bows^ 
With the Needli» of course she's acquainted. 

And no dairy-maid knows more of Cawes. 
While through each change of scene, fire, 

Down Chatmel when once she was thrashin^« 

A French frigate designed her a treat ; 
But at heating quite faiVd, though so dasliingf 

Then tried runnings and there too got beaf. 
Than the Crapaud's craft none seem*d completer I 

While sail after sail up he crowds ; 
But tlie little br Jg» laughing, dead beat her. 

For she was alive in her ^kroudit* 

Through each change of scene, 8rc* 

Then fill, fill, again and again, boys' 
The Wanderer claims your regards; 

Her skipper, his mates, and her men> Imyn^ 
Hull, rigging, masts, canvass, and yard*^ 


On her helmsman and hands safe relying. 

Mischance may she ever avoid, 
May she ever come off colours flying, 

And always by fortune be Buoy'd! 
And while through new scenes 'tis our notion 

For air, health, and pleasure to roam. 
We'll oft drink in port on the oceaUj 

" The Wanderer always at home !" 


Young Henry was as brave a youth 
As ever graced a martial story; 

And Jane was fair as lovely truth. 

She sighed for Love, and he for Glory I 

With her his faith he meant to plight, 
And told her many a gallant story ; 

Till war, tlieir coming joys to blight, 
Caird him away from Love to Glory. 

Young Henry met the foe with pride ; 

Jane followed, fought ! all, hapless story ! 
In man's attire, by Henry's side, 

She died for Love, and he for Glory I 


GKMTirBPOLEB, III my tiHie, I've made many a rhynie» 

But the song I now trouble yoti witli 
Lays some claim to applause, and you'll grant it, becAU 
The subject's Sir Sidney Smitli. Itis^ 
The subject's Sir Sidney Smith* 

We all know Sir Sidney, a man of such kidney^ 

He'd fight every foe he could meet ; 
Give him one ship or two, and without more ado, 

He'd engage, if he met, a whole fleet* He would» ] 

He'd engage, &c. 

Thus he took, every day, all that came m his way 

Till Fortune, that changeable elf^ 
Ordered accidents so, that while taking the foe, 

Sir Sidney got taken himself. He didj 

Sir Sidney got, &c. 

His captors, right glad of the prize they now had. 

Rejected each oflTer we bid, 
And swore he should stay, lock'd up till doomsday j 

But he swore he'd be d — d if he did. He did| 

He swore he*d be, &c. 

So Sir Sid got away, and his gaoler next day 

Cried ** Sacre diable, morbleu ! 
Mon prisonnier 'scape ^ I by got in von 5cra|jc% 

And £ fear I must run away too. 1 muit, 

I fear/' &c. 


f Sir Sidney was wrong, why then blackball my song, 
E'en his foe he would scorn to deceive : 

flis escape was but just, and confess it you must. 
For it only was taking French leave. You know, 
It only was, &c. 


The Cabin Boy's over the sea. 

For his sisters and mother weeps he; 

Till good conduct prevails, and homeward he sails, 

To land his full pockets with glee. 

Next a Middy away o'er the wave,, 
*Tis his fortune in action to save 
His oflficer's life, in the heat of the strife, 
And he lands at home happy and brave. 

Now an Officer over the main, 

Fresh laurels on ocean to gain, 

Till commanding a prize, his friends see him rise. 

And a Captain's commission obtain^ 

The Captain adventures once more,. 
Returning a bold Commodore! 
And, his wishes to crown, he comes up to town 
With an Admiral's flag at the fbre. 



Whatever the pleasures known on shor% 
They've Httle charms for me ; 

Be mine the sea — I ask no more, 
Tis Jack's variety* 

Give me tobacco, grog, and flip, 

An easy sail, a tigbt-built slilp; 

In ev*ry port a pretty lass. 

And round, for me, the globe may pa«3, 

When tired of land, our pockets low, 

With will alert we steer 
O'er hostile seas» attack the foe, 

For sailors know no fear. 
Out prize in tow, we*re all agog 
For fresh tobacco, flip, and grogt 
In port each Reeks his favVite lass. 
And bids the world unheeded pass* 


[Music liy Eeeve.] 

British sailors have a knack. 

Haul away, yo ho, boys I 
Of pulling down a foeman*s jack, 

'Gainst all the worldj you know, boyt 
Come any odds, right sure am I, 
If we cau^t beat 'em^ yet we'll try 
To make our country*s colours fly. 

Haul away, ^o ho, boysj 


British sailors, when at sea, 

Haul away, yo ho, boys ! 
Pipe all hands with glorious glee> 

While up aloft they go, boys ! 
And when with pretty girls on shore 
Their cash is gone, and not before. 
They wisely go to sea for more. 

Haul away, yo ho, boys ! 

British sailors love their king. 

Haul away, yo ho, boys ! 
And round the bowl delight to sing. 

And drink his health, you know, boys ! 
Then while his standard owns a rag, 
The world combined shall never brag 
It made us strike our country's flag, 

Haul away, yo, ho, boys ! 


This song 'was written hy the son of the Bard for tks 
meeting which proposed the erection of a monument to 
his Father's memory,'^ 

One sigh for the bard by philanthropy fired. 

Who ne'er wrote but some truth to impart. 
Whose Muse, while portraying what Nature inspired, 

Brought every touch home to the heart ; 
On his plain honest lay fools would censure intrude. 

Forgetting the theme of his song 
Was the " Heart of a Tar," or the " Billows so rude," 

Which bore his trim vessel along ; 

But gnuTiblera cati seldom achieve auglit beyond. 
The false taste which cli recta their attack ; 

And till pedants can rail Nature's "seal from hm boiidy"^ 
TJiey*lI ne'er injure the bard of " Poor Jack !" 

Ye Mt onea, wlio love the bold sons of true blae> 

Your hearts will be ever allied 
To him who ne'er yet breathed a verse but which jotsl 

Might approve, and this fact was his pride ; 
His harp*B speaking melody ne*er own'd a strain 

Wliich could poisou convey to tbe ear, 
Make semblance of pleasure a passport to pain^ 

Or ^* caused ruin'd beauty a tear T' 
If mirth, with sound moral cominingledj may claim 

ecol lection, his Muse ne*er will lack 
The wreath of true genius which ju8tly-earn*d fame 

Entwines for the hard of ** Poor Jack,*' 

Ye tars of our island, what ''Saturday Night," 

Tho* waves roll, and weather blow hard, 
Shall call you to toast her in whom you delight^ 

Without some grateful thought of the bard 1 
While the can circles gaily, give one manly sigh 

To him who recorded your worth ; 
And who, tho' ** gone aloftj" will with you never die, | 

But in each seaman's heart find a berths 
And you, Brother Britons, met nobly to-day, 

With applause his past merit to back, 
With delight wdi ofl think of each patriot lay^ 

Which ** poor Charles" sung to solace " Poor Ja 



Sam Splicem, d'ye mind me? is one of those boya 

Who from danger or duty ne'er flinches, 
He as well can sail through the world's bustle and noise 

As any tight lad of his inches : 
For Sam had a sweetheart, and meant to be wed, 

Till a trifling accident knock'd up his plan — 
He found she had married another instead. 

But his courage he boldly pluck*d up like a man ! 
"Let her go, if she will, 'tis but folly to sorrow; 
If a storm comes to-day, why a calm comes to-morrow." 

Sam sail'd to the Indies, and safely came back. 

After braving hard knocks and foul weather, 
Of rupees in his chest he had more than a lac, 

And his heart was as light as a feather ; 
While himself and his treasure were hoisting on shore 

A press gang prevented his reaching the land. 
And his chest of rupees he set eyes on no more, 

For the rogues lyiew the value of what they'd in hand : 
Yet it cost honest Sam little more than a sigh, 
" For," says he, " all this hiere will rub out when it's dry." 

Sam once more retum'd with his pockets well lined, 

Yet his cloth was too shabby for wearing. 
So determined no more it should shake in the wind. 

From a bum-boat he purchased repairing. 
Then when Sam was new-rigg'd, his old trousers de^rpised, 

He threw into the sea — when a thought struck his nob, 
And sure no poor devil was e'er so surprised, 

When he found all his cash had been lefl in thu fob I 


Some foJka would have died, but our Sam hatl mora s 
For," Bays he, ** 'twill he all one a hundred years be m^j 

Sam was going again for fresh rhino to work, 

When his uncle ^ a lucky wind falling, 
Left Sam all his wealth, for ihe terrible Turk 

With Old Davy for cash had uo calling. 
I Then Sam, having gold, didn*t long want a wife 

And, what's better hb lasi to her sailor proves true. 
With his girl and his grog he floats easy thro' life, 

And laughs at the troubles he formerly knew : 
*' For," says Sara» " on this maxim you'll safely depeij 
When things come to the worst they'll be sartain to 


** Who'll serve the Queen?" cried the sergeant alou^ 

Roll went the drum, and the fife play'd sweetly- 
" Here, master sergeant!" said I, from the crowds 

"Is a lad who will answer your purpose completeH-' 
My father was a corporal, and well he knew bis trade I 
Of women, wine, and gunpowder, be never was afraid J 
He'd march, fight, left! right! 
Front flank ! centre rank [ 
Storm the trenches, court the wenches. 
Loved the rattle of a battle ^ 
Died in glory, lives in story ! 
And, like him, 1 found a soldier's life, if taken smooth i 

A very merry, hey-down derry, sort of life ettougK* 


" Hold up your head !" cried the sergeant at drill, 

Roll went the drum and the fife play'd loudly. 
" Turn out your toes, Sir!"— Says I, " Sir, I will ;" 

For a nimble-wristed round rattan the sergeant flourished 
My father died when corporal, but I ne'er tum*d my back, 
Till promoted to a halbert, I was sergeant in a crack. 
In sword and sash cut a dash ; 
Spurr'd and booted, next recruited, 
Hob and Clod, awkward squad, 
Then began my rattan ! 
When boys unwilling came to drilling. 
Till made the colonel's orderly, then who but I so bluffy 
Led a very merry, hey-down derry, sort of life enough. 

"Homewards, my lads !" cried the general, "huzza !" 

Roll went the drum, and the fife play'd cheerly. 
To quick time we footed, and sung all the way, 

" Hey, for the pretty girls we all love dearly !" 
My father liv'd with jolly boys in bustle, jars, and strife, 
And, like him, being fond of noise, I mean to take a wife. 
Soon as miss blushes y-i-s, 
Rings, gloves, dears, loves, 
Bells ringing, comrades singing, 
Honeymoon, finish'd soon ! 
Scolding, sighing, children cryii% ! 
Yet still a wedded life may prove, if taken smooth and 

A very merry, hey-down derry, sort of life enough. 



When the world first began,, and some folks say before^ 
As old Neptune was quafimg his grog at the Nore, 
He cried out in his cups, " As my land is the sea, 
Tis high time to consult what its colour shall be," 

AnrphitTite, who had been to drink tea at Sheernessi 
Atid had seen at the barracks a captain^s spruce dre33» 
To her husband exclaimed, as she flirted her fan, 
"Let its colour be red^ do now, that*s a dear man.'* 

Neptune shook hi a rough locks, at his w4fe gave a fro mi, ' 
When his tailor cajrd in with some patterns from town: 
He still was perplex'd, till he cast up his eye, 
And resolved that the ocean should match the bright sky 

Thus the sea, as philosophers know to be true. 
As it washed our white cliiFs bore a fine azure hue, 
Till the laurel of Britain victorious was seen 
To reflect on its surface, and change it to green. 

You may guess our opponents were sad at the siglity 
As the sea grew more green, our pale foes grew more wld 
And neyer beheld it, but vex'd, at the view, 
They scolded old Neptune, and cried out " Mof-bleu l'*j 

Maj its colour remain, and good luck to the boys 
Who o*er its salt surface through danger and noise. 
With Howe, Duncan, and Jarvis, and Nelson, majntatn 
That the tight little island will govern the main. 



The lass for a sailor is lively and free, 

Meaning yes, she would scorn to say no ; 
Such a girl as would dangers encounter with me, 

When over the billows we go. 

One on deck, when bright tnoonbeamd bespangle the deep, 
Who would sing while the plummet we throw ; 

Or, while loud blows the wind, would unconsciously sleep^ 
While over the billows we go. 

Oh, had I for life such a free-hearted lass, 

Vd envy no mortal below ! 
On shipboard, or shore time would merrily pass. 

As over life's billows we go. 


The lofty hall with trophies proud, 

And dazzling panoply of gold. 
Was graced, and trumpets long and loud 

Of Britain's former glories told ; 
Of laurels won on that famed field, 

Where warriors, to old England true^ 
In phalanx fix'd to die ere yield. 

Together fought at Waterloo. 

The " royal feast for Persia won" 
Less splendid victory proclaimed, 

Nor were the deeds of " Philip's son" 
Than British gallantry more famed* 


Whbf the world first began, and some folks say befofi^l 
A 3 old NeptUQe wasi quaiEug bis grog at the Korep ^| 
He cried out m hk ctips, " As my land is the sea* ^| 
Tii bigb time to consult what Its colour shall be<" ^| 

Arnphitrite, who had been to drink tea at Sheerne^ ^M 
And had seen at the barrack;B a captain's spruce dre^.H 
To her husband exclaimed, m she Birted her fan, H 

"Let its colour be red^ do now, that's a de^r m^n," H 

Neptune ^hook his rough locks^ at his wife gave a froilH 
When his tailor call'd in with soma patterns from towiiS 
He still was perplexed, till he cast up hia eye, H 

And resolved that the ocean should match the briglit sky 

Thus the sea, as philosophers know to be true. 
As it wash*d our white cliffs bore a fine azure hue, 
Till the laurel of Britain victorious was seen 
To reflect on its surface, and change it to green. 

You may guess our opponents were sad at the sight, 
As the sea grew more green, our pale foes grew mdre white 
And never beheld it, but vex'd, at the view, 
They scolded old Neptune, and cried out " JVior-bleu!" 

May its colour remain, and good luck to the boys 
Who o*er its salt surface through danger and noise. 
With Howe, Duncan, and Jarvis, and Nelson, maintain, 
That the tight little island will govern the main. 




lass for a sailor is lively and free, 
eaning yes, she would scorn to say no ; 
a girl as would dangers encounter with me, 
ben over the billows we go, 

on deck, when bright tnoonbeamd bespangle the deep, 
ho would sing while the plummet we throw ; 
vhile loud blows the wind, would unconsciously sleep^ 
hile over the billows we go. 

fiad I for life such a free-hearted lass, 
I envy no mortal below ! 
hipboard, or shore time would merrily pass, 
i over life's billows we go. 


The lofty hall with trophies proud, 

And dazzling panoply of gold. 
Was graced, and trumpets long and loud 

Of Britain's former glories told ; 
Of laurels won on that famed field. 

Where warriors, to old England true. 
In phalanx fix'd to die ere yield. 

Together fought at Waterloo. 

The " royal feast for Persia won'* 
Less splendid victory proclaim'd, 

Nor were the deeds of " Philip's son" 
Than British gaUantiy moie iaxsk^^ 

The liero who those aqiiadrona led. 
Earth' B great Despoil er to suMtie^ 

Now sat trimnphant at the head 
Of chiefs who fought at Waterloo^ 

Each canopy some standard bore, 

Or eagled ensign in the fray, 
By England won ; each hosom bore 

Some proud memorial of that day ! 
And splendid symbols pending round 

Recall 'd to all with mem'ry true. 
Some action on that hard-fough ground. 

By each achieved at Waterloo. 

In every warlike dazzling hue 

Of martial pomp each chief was dressed. 
Beyond all pencil ever drew. 

Or Fancy's boldest tints ex press* d; 
And^ sovereign of our happy land. 

Sate William, that famed scene to view. 
Enthroned among the gallant band 

Of those who fought at Waterloo. 

With honest pride the cup he took. 

To grace the leader of that day, 
When casting round an anxious look,- — 

"And why>" he asked, "are those awf^y. 
Whose proud insignia caught my eye 

On entering bere^ — an humble two, 
Who in the ranks might haply vie 

With all who fought at Waterloo?*' 


Think how their lovers, friends, and wives, 

With beating hearts from year to year, 
That humble two throughout their lives. 

Describing that glad day will hear ; 
In William's presence calPd to drain 

The cup, " To every warrior true, 
And him who led the victor train 

To conquer peace at Waterloo." 


[ Written on the proposal to erect a monument at Greeniinch 
in honour of our late beloved Sovereign^ William IV,, 
and dutifuXiy dedicated to Her Majesty Queen Adelaide.] 

When pyramids, form*d by the fiat of pow*r. 

The mem'ry of monarchs preserved. 
Who strutted and fretted on earth their short hour, 

Amid plaudits not always deserved : 
Of those massy memorials, how many proclaim 

That oblivion of pride is the lot. 
And their ruins alone remain sacred to fame. 

While for whom they were form*d is forgot ! 
The lesson this teaches we can't read too oft. 

Object to its moral who can ? 
Truth longest preserves in Time's annals aloft, 

Not the rank, but the worth of the man I 

So thought Albion's William, when, bom to a crown, 

The splendour of courts he resign'd, 
For the seaman's rude cot changed his cradle of down, 

And soft airs for the rude roaring wind; 

ftoyal birthdays and balls to gay couTtiera he left. 

No berth but hia cabin he knows ; 
Save hia a word, of each dazzling distinction bereft. 

While he only gave balk to our tbes. 
His station nnenvied by folly, thougit oft 

Noble hearts warmly share in hia plan. 
Of ascending to honour's main topmast aJoftp 

Not by rank but the merit of man! 

Able seaman, smart middy, lieutenant, and posi. 

By experience he gain*d every grade, 
And no sovereign but ours of a son e*er could boas 

Sncli a tar as our William was madCi^ 
When comniodoFc, admiral — ranks bravely wo% 

For through each by desert did he pass— 
From the hour when he only stood last at his gun* 

To the day he rose first of his class. 
With Digby, Keate, Rodney ^ and Hardy, how oft 

Up the shrouds of true honour he ran ; 
While BritaiUj exulting, beheld him aloft 

By his worth, not the rank of the maul 

When regal succession encircled his brow 

With that crown he oil sail'd to defend. 
Once obedient to others, commanding them nowt 

Of our tars he's the father and friend ; 
Brave hearts, who, as he did, knew how to obey, 

With distinction to hail he delights; 
And age, worn' by service, old Greenwich can Rajt 

He protects^ in their comibrts and rigbts^; 


While gratitude readers tbe toughest heart soil, 
When to recompense worth is the plan 

Of our hlue-jacket King, in pur hearts throned aloft, 
Not for rank, hut desert as a man ! 

Then where is the suhject with nohler claim 

Than our King to the tribute we pay, 
In adding one shaft to the columns of fame 

Which his worth shall in story convey ? 
And when the full canvass shall homeward impel 

Gallant tars, as they gratefully view 
William's towering memorial their hearts too will swell, 

As their lips give our sovereign his due ! 
Whose sailors and soldiers, and country so oft 

Proved that honour alone was the plan 
1 hat taught Britain to place her loved William aloft 

Less from rank than desert as a man ! 


"When Britons on the foaming main," 
Of Albion's flag the rights maintain, 
What is their valour's glorious gain? 

Victoria ! 

When warriors in the tented field 

Ir Freedom's cause the Fauchion wield, 

What is the contest sure to yield ? 



A id what the sweetest flower that glowF, 
Tinted by loveliness ;«— a Rose 
That with Hope's sweetest promise blows ? 

Victoria ! 

Britannia's daughters, dear to them 
Art thou, Victoria ! Freedom's gem. 
Pride of thine honoured royal stem, 

Victoria f 




0. DIBDI¥, JuN., 

AUTHOB or *<TBB TAURB'S Wm,** **KI SPOUn AND I," &c., Stc. 


Jack Junk was a tar who could tether his tack, 

Of his merits who never was talking ; 
If his friend was in limbo, he ne'er hung aback, 

And his courage it ne'er wanted caulking : 
Then Jack was, moreover, a comical dog, 

And, if rightly I stick to my story, 
He would now and then get so aboard of the grog ! 

Then, d'ye see, he was all in his glory. 

In battle one day, with a jorum of flip, 

^ Jack while crossing the deck, began reeling, 

And fell, for his leg was shot off at the hip. 

But the liquor he just saved from spilling. 
"Don't you see," cried his captain, "your leg's oft', you 

Jack answer'd, if right is my story, 
"Never mind it, for, splice me, I've sav'd all the grog!" 

So d'ye see, he was all in liis glory. 


Discharg*d on a pension, he'd not live Ibrlorn, 

But wedlock's wide oceaB would weather ; 
There he made Cuckold's Point, and he doubled 

And his course and command lost toiJtether ; 
For his wife slippd her cable with some pirate dog,T 

And Jack juiJt to wind up the story. 
Sprung the leak of despair, and so swigg'd at the grog, 

That to Davy he went in his glory I 


Beti BoWfiFB.IT I am, and a true bouny boy, — 

Pull away ! pull away t so funny ; 
And was always the first to pipe hands ar-boy 

When the signal waa out to be sunny; 
I can weather all seas like a good jolly dog. 

With the best he that ever went hopping ; 
But the ocean for me is the ocean of grog : 
Pull away ! pull aw*ay ! Pull I 1 say. 

What d'ye think of Ben Bowsprit of Wappingl 

5f y grandfather bulg'd with a freighting of Aip,^ 

Pull away I pull away i so frisky ; 
Old Davy contrived my dad's cable to slip. 

One day when overladen with whisky ; 
My wife's christian name it was Brandy-fac'd 

The native to Nick sent her hopping; 
So, the family cause TU support while I cmx % 
Pull away ! pull away ! PulH I sayt 
What d'ye think, &c*, 


Avast ! don't suppose I have launched out a lie,— 

Pull away ! pull away ! so groggy ; 
Don't you see, in the service I*ve bung'd up one eye? 

And t'other I own's rather foggy ; 
Then to stand on I've scarcely a leg left, d'ye mind ; 

And should death t'other daylight be stopping. 
The worst you can say is, I've drunk till I'm blind; 
Pull away ! pull away ! Pull ! I say. 
What d'ye think, &c. 

While one leg I've left, I'll stand to my gun, — 

Pull away ! pull away ! beauty ! 
One's enough for to stand on, and as for to run, 

Why that's not set down in our duty. 
For England's good king and our dear native shore, 

Should the foe in our channel be chopping, 
I'll show 'em, d'ye see, what I've shown *em before : 
Pull away ! pull away ! Pull ! I say. 

What d'ye think of Ben Bowsprit of Wapping ? 


The Albion is a noble ship, 

Her colours are true blue, 
Her hull is royal heart of oak. 

And heart of oak her crew ; 
Her rigging's tight for every tack, 

Her planks without a starter. 
The gallant union is her jack. 

Her sheathing Magna Charta. 

How galkntly she bears her port. 

The ocean's pride and dread ; 
The envied cap of liberty 

Adorns her glorious head : 
Her pride is commerce to iii crease* 

In war she IS no starter; 
But tnay she anchor long in peacep 

Secur'd by Magna Gbarta ! 


Wheh a sailor goes to sea. 

Merrily, cheerily, yo! yo! yo! 
A-weather the helm, or a-ke. 
He sings aloft, or below, 
Rifol, derol, Sec* 
When a foe appears 
The deck he clears, 
And, d — ei he comes ifc so. 

(Putting hlnmelf in aitUuiU nf^ 
Bold and bluff, 
Till bis man has enough^ 
And then it^s yo I heave ho I 
Fol, lol, &c. 

When a sailor comes ashore^ 

Merrily* &c, 
Stored with gold galore, 

He's but an odd B&b w& knowi 
Kifol, &c 


But on shore as at sea, 
If a foe there be, 
D— e, he comes it so. 

{Dramng his mstlasi,) 
Bold, &c. 

When a sailor's spent his chink. 

Merrily, &c. 
As he can't stay ashore to think, 
To sea again he must go, 
Rifol, &c. 

For his country's right. 
Like the devil will fight, 
Andy d — e, he comes it so. 

(Firet a piitoL) 
Bold, &c. 


I unshipp'd from aboard the Sky Rocket, 

At seven f.m., at half-past 
An odd guinea burnt in my pocket. 

And d— e, why that was my last ! 
To spend it at eight, and get groggy, 

I swore ; at half-past eight thought as how 
I wouldn't, because when I'm foggy 

I'm sartain to kick up a row. 
Fol, &ۥ 

At nine Betty Sly overhauVd me ; 

The guinea J says Ij get you sha'n'tt 
Far tho* your true blue boy you call me. 

The yellow-boy, hussey, you want ; 
At ten a Jew wanted to bone it ; 

Say a I> Smouchee, I won^t buy your stu6^ 
Andj d'ye mind, altho' pork you disown it. 

You like guinea-pigs well enough* 
Fol, &c. 

At eleven I pip'd like a ninny » 

To see an old tar iu distresB ; 
So I took and I gave him the gnfcea j 

And, splice me ! how eouM 1 do les* ? 
At twelve sail'd to old Mother Crocket, 

At whose house Fd thrown hundreds aliou^ 
But I hadn't a kick in my pocket, 

So she soon enough kicked me out* 
Fol, &c. 

The rain was most preciously pouring | 

In a watch-box I look'd for a bed, 
But the old woman in it was snoring. 

So I kept the watch in his stead ; 
To me watching waVt a new notion ; 

Thro' many a terrible squall, 
For Old England IVe watch'd on the ocean, 

And her watch- word is ** Liberty Hall I 
Fol, Sfc. 



Old England's a ship of the line, do you mind, 

The Britannia ; — ^no force can withstand her : 
Her old wooden walls defy quicksands and winds, 

And the king is her honour'd commander : 
Lieutenants, you know, are your lords, and them there; 

Then midshipmen, many a gross on, 
Are your big-wigs and justices; then, my lord-mayor. 

Why, d — e, he must be the boatswain ! 
Then pull away, yeo ! yea ! 
Merry push the can about. 
Drink success to the good ship Britannia. 

Chaplains, stewards, and cooks, you may very soon name^ 

And the mess just as easy be filling 
Of doctors and gunners, for they're all the same, 

As they're both of them dabsters at killing : 
But for lawyers one can't find a station so pat, 

For their likes on board ne'er caught are. 
Except cat-o'-nine-tails, and if they a'n't that, 

They must be the sharks in the water. 
Then pull, &c. 

Prime min'ster is purser ; and when the bag's full« 

He empties it, state cares to soflen ; 
And then, as ship-owner, his honour, John Bull, 

Must fill it, and that pretty often : 
But his honour, John Bull, is as rich as a Jew, 

And swears to the length of his cable. 
He'll stick to Britannia, — and, pray wou'dn^t you ? 

Ay, d — e, as long as you're able 1 
Pull away, &c, 



We^re told that our foes to invade us intend, 
, And no wonder if Buonaparte's madness thus end ; 
For the man is most likely, it must be allow'd. 
In the air to build castles who lives at St. Clouds 
Tol de rol. 

They'll come, we are told^ or fame makes & faux pas. 
In balloons to be filled with the smoke of burnt straw. 
And it's quite a-propos that a plan, without joke. 
Which is fonnded in vapour, should finish in smokei 
Tol de roL 

Then some say they'll come here, in flat-bottom *d boats; 
To reap a good harvest, and sow their wild oats ; 
But the harvest they fancy to reap will be smashed, 
And their oats and themselves get confoundedly thrasbU 
Tol de rol. 

But why to get here need they take so much pains^ 
To project this or that way+ or pu^de their brains ? 
Let them once pat to sea, and they'll soon find escorta. 
For our sailors will pilot them into our ports^ 
Tol de roL 

Asa proof that they'll come *tis their ev'ry-day toast* 
"The hero who first sets his foot on our coast f 
Btit he*ll not keep his footing?; I'll wnger a crovm» 
So let fi# toast "The Briton that lirst knocks him dowati 
Tol de tol, &c. 



Born at sea, and my cradle a frigate, 

The boatswain he nurs'd me true blue ; 
I soon learnt to fight, drink, and jig it, 

And quiz every soul of the crew. 
So merrily push round the glasses. 

And strike up the fiddles, huzza ! 
And foot it away with the lasses, 

Tol de rol, heave ahead, pull away ! 

A tar tho* his hopes should be lopp'd off. 

His courage should ever hold fast ; 
So, Tom Tough, when the colours were popp'd off. 

His blue jacket nail'd to the mast. 
So merrily, &c. 

To love and to fight's a tar's duty. 

And either delight to him bring. 
To live with his favourite beauty. 

Or die for his country and king. 
So merrily, &c. 


Ben Backstay was our boatswain, a very merry boy. 
For no one half so merrily could pipe all hands a-hoy ; 
And when it chanc'd his summons we didn't well attend 
No lad than he more merrily could handle a rope's end. 
With a chip, chow, fol de rol, &c« 

Whilo sailing once» our captain, who was a joUy dog, 
One day sarvM out to ev'ry mess a double share of gro 
Ben Backstay he got tipsy^ all to bis lieart*s content, 
Audi being half-seas over, why overboard he went* 
With a chip, &c. 

shark was on the starboard — sharks don't for 
lut grapple all that they come near, like lawyer sharks ti? 

land ;^ 
We threw out Ben some tackling, of saving him m liopes. 
But the shark had bit his bead off, bo he could not see the 
With a chip, &c. 

Without a bead bis ghost appeared, all on the briny lakl 
He pip*d all hands ahoy, and cried, '* Lads, warning by i 


By drinking grog I loit my life ; so, lest my fate you meet, 
-Why, never mix your liquor, lads, but alwayi drink it 
Widi a chip, &c. 


The foe on one string always strummii^ 1 
Declare to attack us theyVe coming, bofSi 
But I fancy they're only humming, boys. 
What say you? {To Soidkr,) 



Let 'em come, if resolv'd to attack ; 
The best way to come they their brains needn't rack ; 
They'd much better study the way to get back I 
What say you ? {To Sailor.) 


I say so too. 


And so do I. 


Let *em come, let *em come ; we their force defy t 
Then strike hands (Join hands), for together we'll conquer 
or die. 

Tol de rol, de rol liddle lol, &c. 
Cheery, my hearts, yo ! yo ! 


If to make us pay shot they require, boys, 
We'll give them their heart's desire, boys ; 
With, make ready ! present, »id fire, boys ! 
What say you ? {To Sailor J) 


Helm a-port, helm a-lee, or aloft or below. 
Wind foully, or fairly, we'll soon make the foe^ 
When once half-seas over, quite how come you so. 
What say you? {To Soldier.) 


I «ay so toO| Ste. 


Sons of Albion, sound to flrin§ ! 

The hour of glory *s near ; 
And, if the name of Briton cbarms^ 

Or freedonii*s sweets are dear, 
Fly, fiy to prove your chartered claim 
To those blest sweets, that envied name: 
And, when in freedom's cause you go 
To meet a protid insulting foe> 
Oh, emulate your race of yore,^ 
"Return vietorious, or return no more K' 


Toiff Tack was the shipmate for duty. 

Till Fortune ^he gave him a twitch. 
For Tom fell in love with a beauty—* 

He'd better have falFn in a ditch : 
With his fair he could get no promotion » 

So Tom, like a desperate dog, 
He drown'd all his cares in the ocean, — 

But then, 'twas the ocean of grog. 

True love, when it's slighted, will cankei. 
So, Tom, when the bo'swa'n wa'nt by. 

Minded less about heaving the anchor 
Than he did about heaving a ligh. 


Then for the last time to be jolly, 
He invited each soul in the ship ; 

With a shot, then, he finish'd his folly,— 
But 'twas the shot paid for the flip. 

In folly, thus, faster and faster, 
Tom went on, in search of relief; 

Till one day a shocking disaster 
Without a joke finished his grief: 

If his fair one's heart he couldn't mellow. 
He'd hang himself, often he said ; 

So his neck in a noose put, poor fellow ! — 
In plain English, one day he got wed. 


YouE grave politicians may kick up a rout 

Of invasions and such sort of stuff, 
With as how, and as what, all the French are aboutt 

Why, lord, they're about sick enough ; 
Their armies in Egypt might conauer bashaws. 

And deck with their tails eacli brow. 
But their navies can ne'er hope to conquer, because 
They've forgot — no— they can't forget Howe ! 
While British cannons their thunder boast, 

And every sailor's a Mars, 
Secure from all squalls, 

Be this our toast, 
God bless the king ! Long life to our tars ' 
And success to our old wooden walls I 


be Mounseers, your worships can nevfer fcrrget. 

Just when they were lather 'd by Howe, 
Or because that the Don shouldn't die In our debt, 

How Jarvis kick*tl up such a row* 
Then how Duncan he peppered our flat*hottom*d foesp 

They*ll think <if a pretty long while ; 
And if they forget all thrs here, T suppose 

They'll remeoflber the mouth of the Nile. 
While, &c. 

Their Array of England was once a great gun, 

B'lt we*v© taught *efn ecodi to sing small • 
And for navy, if things go on as they've begun, 

I think tliey'll soon have none at all ; 
Their tri-colour'd flag^s very pretty belike* 

But, spite of their humming^ *twon*t do. 
For you rind I know that all colours must strike 

To King George and old England's trae blue. 
While, Sec. 


Ye landsmen and ye seamen, be you a-head or stern, 
Come listen unto me, and a story you shall learn ; 
It*8 of one Captain Oakum tliat you shall quickly heai 
Who was the bold commander of the Peggy privateer ^ 
And he his colours never Btruck^ so ^eat was his renfli 
To never no one soul on earth but Poll of Horsleydown^ 


Miss Polly was a first-rate, trick'd out in flashy gear, 
And Captain Oakum met her, as to Wapping he did steer: 
And as he stood a viewing her, and thinking of no hurt, 
A porter passing with a load capsized him in the dirt ; 
Then taking out his *bacco-box, that cost him half-a-crown, 
He took a quid, and heav*d a sigh to Poll of Horsleydown. 

He soon found out Poll's father, and, dress'd in rich array, 
He got permission for to court, and so got under weigh : 
Miss Polly she received him all for a lover true. 
And quite inamorated of her he quickly grew : 
He squir'd and conveyed her all over London town. 
Until the day was fix*d to wed with Poll of Horsleydown. 

But Poll she was a knowing one, as you shall quickly find, 
And this here Captain Oakum, — why, love had made him 

One morning in her chamber he found a cockney lout, 
So, captain shov'd the window up, and chuck'd my gem'- 

man out; 
Then cock*d his arms a kimbo, and, looking with a frown, 
He took a quid, and bid good bye to Poll of Horsleydown. 


Jack Gunnel, an odd fish as ever hove anchor 
Or clew*d up a topsail, lov'd Poll of Spithead ; 

But Poll was a Tartar, a terrible canker. 

For, though a tight vessel, false colours she spread; 


lack, aftena he told me, he loved her more better 

Than deep sounding, amooth sailing, good biscuiti 

lut I thought he was wrong so his senses to fetter. 
And reason' d, d^ye mind, with the obstinate dog ; 
For it's always my way, when a shipmate I sees 
Deceived in his reckomng or hanging astarn, 

Po take him in tow, if I drives with the breeze. 
Or point out those shallows he cannot dissam*. 

Her false arms she ]ash*d round bis neck when they parte«l 

That time when the Dreadnought she saiFd from the 
A leak in her eye for to queer him she started. 

And shamm*d for to faint when the boat put off shore. 
How oft of her constancy Jack would be talking I 

And toasted her still when ive pushM rotmd the gtogi 
But I told him her constancy oft would want calking. 

And a scowl lour'd the eye of the obstinate dog : 
But it^s always my way, &c. 

laeh prize that we took gave Jack's spirits fresh canv 
And the compass of Hope seem'd to point to Port Jd 

But 1 knew ill my mind how mistaken the man was« 
And tried still his senses to pipe hands a-hoy 1 

For which in the presence of every mess^brother, 
He struck me one night while we pushed rounil 

I So 1 trouncM him, d'ye see, and how could I do other f 
I And I left to himself, then, the obstinate dog- 
[ Yet it's always, &c« 


When to port we return'd, Jack soon heard that his Polly 

Didn't single long after his sailing remain : 
The latitude then he first found of his folly, 

And wanted the timbers to start of his brain ; 
But I captured his pistols, and bid him weigh anchor, 

And leave Port Despair for the Ocean of Grog ; 
IJe took my advice, overboard threw his rancour, 

And never more tum*d out an obstinate dog. 
And it*s always, &c. 


I'm a true honest-hearted gay fellow. 

And scorn to be hanging aback. 
Who fear neither bullet nor billow, 
And this has been always my Jack : 
In defence of my system to pledge heart and hand. 
And to fight for my king and my dear native land, 

Some people about Whig and Tory, 

And such sort of trash and to do. 

Will tell you all day a tough story. 

And perhaps all they say may be true ; 
But such outlandish lingo I don't understand 
So I fight for, &c. 

Both parties they quarrel most rarely ; 

I'm puzzled with which side to strike, 
For both find sound argument fairly 
To prove they're all patriots alike; 
Yet I side with no maxims I don't understand^ 
But I fight for, &c. 


We're told that our foes to invade us intend, 
And no wonder if Buonaparte's madness thus end ; 
For the man is most likely, it must be allow'd^ 
In the air to build castles who lives at St. Clouds 
Tol de rol. 

They'll come, we are told, or fame makeg a faux pas, 
In balloons to be filled with the smoke of burnt strafl 
And it's quite a-propos that a plan, without joke^ 
Which is founded in vapouTj should finish in smoke. 
Tol de Tol, 

Then some aay they 11 come here, in flat-bottom' d boats,' 
To reap a good harvest, and sow their wild oats ; 
But the harvest they fancy to reap will be smashM, 
And their oats and themselves get confoundedly thra 
Tol de rol. 

But why to get here need they take so much pains. 
To project this or that way, or puzzle their brains ? 
Let them once put to sea, and they'll soon find escorts > 
For our sailors will pilot them into our ports, 
Tol de roL 

Asa proof that they'll come 'tis their ev*ry-day toastij 
**Tlie hero who first sets his foot on our coast!" 
But he'll not keep his footing, I'll wager a crown. 
So let uff toast "The Briton that first knocks him do« 
Tol de rol, Sec, 



Born at sea, and my cradle a frigate, 

The boatswain he nurs'd me true blue ; 
I soon learnt to fight, drink, and jig it, 

And quiz every soul of the crew. 
So merrily push round the glasses, 

And strike up the fiddles, huzza ! 
And foot it away with the lasses, 

Tol de rol, heave ahead, pull away ! 

A tar tho' his hopes should be lopp'd off. 

His courage should ever hold fast ; 
So, Tom Tough, when the colours were popp'd off. 

His blue jacket nail'd to the mast. 
So merrily, &c. 

To love and to fight's a tar's duty. 

And either delight to him bring. 
To live with his favourite beauty. 

Or die for his country and king. 
So merrily, &c. 


Ben Backstay was our boatswain, a very merry boy, 
For no one half so merrily could pipe all hands a-hoy ; 
And when it chanc'd his summons we didn't well attend 
No lad than he more merrily could handle a rope's end. 
With a chip, chow, fol de rol, &c« 

Here's a tiealth to our tars on the wild ocean rangtn 
Perhaps even now some broadsides are exchanging^ 

We'll on shipboard and join in the fight ; 
And when with the foe we are lirmly engaging. 
Till the fire of our gnns lulls the sea in its raging. 

On our country we*!! think with delight. ' 

So fill, fill your glasses, &C. 

On that throne where once Alfred m glory was seafl 
Longj long may our king by his people be greeted; 

Oh ! to guard him w^e'll be of one mind. 
May religion, Iaw» order, be strictly defended. 
And continue the blessings they first were intended. 
In nnion the nation to bind ! 
So fill, fill your glasses, &c. 


[B J John Gay.] 

All in the Downs the fleet lay moor'd* 

The streamers weaving in the wind, 
When black-eyed Susan came on board — 
Oh 1 where shall I my true love find ? 
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, 
If my sweet William sails among your crew. 

William, who high upon the yard 

Rock'd with the billows to and fro. 

Soon as her well-known voice he heard, 

He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below. 

The cord glides swiftly thro* his glowing haniiii 

And quick as lightning on ibe deck he standi* 


So the sweet lark, high pois'd in air, 

Shuts close his pinions to his breast, 
If chance his mate's shrill call he hear, 
And drops at once into her nest. 
The noblest captain in the British flee* 
Might envy William's lips those kisses sweet. 

O Susan, Susan, lovely dear ! 

My vows shall ever true remain ; 
Let me kiss off that falling tear — 
We only part to meet again. 
Change as ye list, ye winds, my heart shall be 
The faithful compass that still points to thee 1 

Believe not what the landmen say, 

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind ; 
They'll tell thee sailors, when away, 
In every port a mistress find : 
Yes, yes, believe them, when they tell thee so, 
For thou art present wheresoe'er I go ! 

If to far India's coast we sail. 

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright. 
Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale. 
Thy skin is ivory so white : 
Thus every beauteous object that I view 
Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue. 

Though battle calls me from thy arms. 

Let not my pretty Susan mourn ; 
Though cannon's roar, yet, safe from harms, 
William shall to his dear return : 
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly. 
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan'a e^^« 


Sons of Albion, sound to arms f 

The hour of glory*s near ; 
Aad, if the name of Briton charms, 

Or freedom's sweets are dear, 
Fly, fly to proye your charter'd clatm 
To those blest sweets, that envied name: 
And J when in freedom ^s cause you go 
To meet a proud insulting foe, 
Oh, emulate your race of yore,^ 
•* Hetum victorious^ or return no mofa P 


Toil Tack was the shipmate for duty. 

Till Fortune she gave him a twitch. 
For Tom fell in love with a beauty—-^ 

HeM better have falVn in a ditch : 
With bis fair he could get no promotion. 

So Tom^ like a desperate dog, 
He drown' d all his cares in the ocean,^ — 

But then, 'twas the ocean of grog. 

True love, when k*s slsghtedi will cankei. 
So, Tom, when the bo^swa'n wa'nt by* 

Minded less about heaving the anchor 
Tban be did about heavixig a stgb. 


Then for the last time to be jolly, 
He invited each soul in the ship ; 

With a shot, then, he finish'd his folly,— 
But 'twas the shot paid for the flip. 

In folly, thus, faster and faster, 
Tom went on, in search of relief; 

Till one day a shocking disaster 
Without a joke finish'd his grief: 

If his fair one's heart he couldn't mellow. 
He'd hang himself, often he said ; 

So his neck in a noose put, poor fellow ! — 
In plain English, one day he got wed. 



YouE grave politicians may kick up a rout 

Of invasions and such sort of stuff. 
With as how, and as what, all the French are aboutt 

Why, lord, they're about sick enough ; 
Their armies in Egypt might conauer bashaws. 

And deck with their tails eacli brow. 
But their navies can ne'er hope to conquer, because 
They've forgot — no — they can't forget Howe ! 
While British cannons their thunder boast, 

And every sailor's a Mars, 
Secure from all squalls, 

Be this our toast, 
God bless the king ! Long life to our tars ' 
And success to our old wooden walls I 


While o*er the ship wild waves are beating, 
We for wives or children mourn ; 

Alas I from betiee there's no retreattng ; 

Alas ! from hence there's no return* 
Still the leak is gaining on us. 

Both chain-pumps are chok*d below ; 
Heaven have mercy here upon us ! 

For only that can save us now. , 

O'er the lee-beam ts the land, boyi ! 

Let the guns overboard be thrown ; 
To the pump come every hand, boys f 

See, our mizen-mast is gone I 
The leak weVe found, it cannot pour fast ; 

WeVe lightened her a foot or more ; 
Up and rig a jury foremast,^ — 

She rights I she rights, boys I we're off shore I 

Now once more on joys we're thinking. 

Since kind Fortune saved our lives ; 
Come, the can, boys ! let's be drinking 

To onr sweethearts and out wives : 
Fill it up, ahout ship wheel it. 

Close to the lips a brimmer join.'— ^ 
Where's the tempest now ? who feel it ' 

ii^oncl our danger's drown' d in wine* 



[The Rev. Sir H. Dudley Bate. Music by Shield.] 

From Minden's Plains of glory 
I date my warlike story, 
When conquest, never yet undone. 
By British arms was nobly won. 
See old Kingley's lads present, 

Revenge desiring. 

Incessant firing, 
On fame and Britain's glory bent. 
All our powder and ball expended, 
The Monsieurs thought the battle ended^ 
Till with bayonets advancing. 
We quickly set their columns prancing* 
And to make our victory good, 
Followed through a crimson flood* 
From Minden's Plains of glory 
I date my warlike story, 
When conquest, never yet undone, 
By British arms was nobly won. 


Thursday in the morn, the nineteenth of May. 

Recorded be for ever the famous Ninety-two,- 
Brave Russell did discern, by break of day, 

The lofty sails of France advancing too. 


Ail hands aloft 1 they cry» let English courage shine^ 
Let; fly a culveiine, the signal of the line; 
Let every man supply his gun^ 
Follow me, 
You shall see 
That the hattle it will soon be won* 

Tourville on the main triumphant roll'd 

To meet the gallant Russell in combat o'er the deep • 
He led his noble troops of heroes boUl 

To fiink the English admiral and his fleet. 
Now every gallant mind to victory does aspire : 
The bloody fight's begun — the sea is all on fire ; 

And mighty Fate stood looking on, 
Whilst the flood 
All with blood 

FilFd the scuppers of the Rising Sun. 

Sulphur, smokej and fire, disturbing the air* 

With thunder and wonder, affright the Gallic shore ; 
Their regiilated bands stood trembling near. 

To see their lofty streamers now no more. 
At SIX o'clock thG Red the smiling victors led 
To give the second hlow-^the total overthrow* 

Now Death and Horror equal reign; 
Now they cry, 
Run or die — ' 

British colours ride the vanquished maint 

See, they fly amazed o*er rocks and sands ! 

One danger they grasp to shun a greater fate ; 
In vain they cried for aid to weeping lands. 

The nymphs and seix-^t^d& tuoam their lost estate* 


For ever more adieu, thou ever dazzling Sun ! 
From thy untimely end thy master's fate begun 
Enough, thou mighty God of War ! 
Now we sing, 
Bless the king ! 
Let us drink to every Ei^lish tar. 


[John O'Keeffe. Music by Dr. Arnold.] 

In May fifteen hundred and eighty and eight. 

Cries Philip, the English I'll humble ; 
I've taken it into my Majesty's pate, 

And their lion, oh ! down he shall tumble. 
They lords of the sea ! — then his sceptre he shook,—* 

I'll prove it an arrant bravado. 
By Neptune ! I'll sweep 'em all into a nook, 

With th' invincible Spanish Armada ! 

This fleet then sail'd out, and the winds they did blow, 

Their guns made a terrible clatter ; 
Our noble Queen Bess, 'cause she wanted to know, 

Quill'd her ruff and cried, " Pray what's the matter ?*• 
** They say, my good Queen," replied Howard so stout, 

" The Spaniard has drawn his toledo ; 
Cock sure that he'll thump us, and kick us about, 

With th' invincible Spanish Armada." 

The Lord Mayor of London, a very wise man. 
What to do in this case vastly wonder'd ; 

bays the Queen, "Send in fifty good ships if you can." 
Says my Lord, " Ma'am, I'll send in a hundred." 

>ur fire-ships tbey soon stmck their eannons all durnb^ 

For the Dona rim to ave and credo. 
Great Medina roars out, '* Sure ihe devil is come 

For th* invincible Spanish Armada-" 

On Effingham*s squadron though all in a breast, 

Like open-mouth curs, they came bowling: 
His sugar-plums finding they could not digest. 

Away home they ran yelping and howling. 
Whenever Britain's foes shall, with envy agog, 

In our Channel make such a bravado — 
Huzza, my hrave boys 1 we're still able to flog 

An invincible Spanish Armada 1 
Huzza, my brave boys I &c. 


[Worda and Mosic by Mr, Smart.] 

I siNd the British teaman's praise, 

A theme renown'd in story i 
It well deserves more polished lays, 

Ohj 'tis your boast and glory 1 
When mad-brain'd War spreads death around 

By them you are protected. 
But when in peace the nation's found 

These bulwarks are neglected, 
Then, oh ! protect the hardy tar, 

Be mindful of lua merit, 
And when again we're plung'd in war 

He'll &bow bis daring spirit. 



When thickest darkness covers all 

Far on the trackless ocean, 
When lightnings dart, when thunders roll, 

And all is wild commotion ; 
When o'er the bark the white-topp*d waves 

W^ith boisterous sweep are rolling — 
Yet coolly still the whole he braves. 

Serene amidst the howling. 
Then, oh! protect, &c. 

When deep immers*d in sulph'rous smoke 

He feels a glowing pleasure ; 
He loads his gun, right heart of oak, 

Elated beyond measure. 
Though fore and aft the blood-stain'd deck 

Should lifeless trunks appear, 
Or should the vessel float a wreck, 

The sailor knows no fear. 
Then, oh! protect, &c. 

When long becalm*d on southern brine, 

Where scorching beams assail him, 
When all the canvass hangs supine, 

And food and water fail him — 
Then oft he dreams of Britain's shore. 

Where plenty still is reigning. 
They call the watch. His rapture's o «»r — 

He sighs — forbears complaining. 
Then, oh ! protect, &c. 

Or burning on that noxious coast 
Where death so oft befriends him ; 

Or pinch'd by hoary Greenland's frost, 
True courage still attends him. 

Here's a liealtli to our tars on tlie wild oceati rangm^^ 
Perhaps even now some broadsides are exchangin 

Well on shipboard and join in the fight ; 
Artd when with the foe we are firmly engaging, 
Till the fire of our gtma lulls the sea in its raging. 

On our country we'll think with delight. 
So fill, fill your glassesj &:c. 

On that throne where once Alfred in glory was : 
Long* long may our king by his people be greeted; 

Oh ! to guard him we'll be of one mind* 
May religion, law, order, be strictly defended, 
And continue the blessings they first were Jntetidedt 

In union the nation to bind I 
So fill, fill your glasses, &c. 


[By John Gay.] 

All in the Downs the fleet lay moorM, 

The streamers waving in the wind. 
When black-eyed Susan came on board^ — 
OH 1 where shall I my true love find ? 
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true. 
It my sweet William sails among your crew. 

William, who higb upon the yard 

Rock'd with the billows to and fro. 

Soon as her well-known voice lie heard. 

He sighM, and cast his eyes below. 

The cord glides swiftly thro' his glowing liandst 

And quick as lightning on the deck he stands. 


So the sweet lark, high pois'd in air, 

Shuts close his pinions to his breast, 
If chance his mate's shrill call he hear. 
And drops at once into her nest. 
The noblest captain in the British flee* 
Might envy William's lips those kisses sweet. 

O Susan, Susan, lovely dear ! 

My vows shall ever true remain ; 
Let me kiss off that falling tear — 
We only part to meet again. 
Change as ye list, ye winds, my heart shall be 
The faithful compass that still points to thee ! 

Believe not what the landmen say, 

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind \ 
They'll tell thee sailors, when away. 
In every port a mistress find : 
Yes, yes, believe them, when they tell thee so, 
For thou art present wheresoe'er I go ! 

If to far India's coast we sail, 

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, 
Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale, 
Thy skin is ivory so white : 
Thus every beauteous object that I view 
Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue. 

Though battle calls me from thy arms, 

Let not my pretty Susan mourn ; 
Though cannon's roar, yet, safe from harms, 
William shall to his dear return : 
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, 
Lest precious tears should drop from Susau's e^^« 



fWritten hy Mr. Wagnell. Moeic by Worga.ii.] 

The watVy god, great Neptune^ lay 
la cklliance soft and amorous play 

On A mph it rite's lireast, 
When Ufiroar rearM its liorrid Tiead^ 
The tritons shrunk, the nereids fled. 

And all their fear confessed. 

lioud thutider shook the vast domain. 
The liquid world was wrapped in flame \ 

The god, amazed, spoke — 
'* Ye Winds, go forth and make it Imown 
Who dares to shake my coral throne, 

And fill my realms with amoke--' 

The Windsj obsequious, at his word 
Sprung strongly up t'obey their lord. 

And savv two fleets a-weigh — 
One, victorious Hawke, was thine. 
The otkiar, Con flans' wretched line — 

In terror and dismay. 

Appaird, they view Britannia's sons 
Deal death and slaughter from their gttn% 

And strike the dreadful blow» 
Which caused ill-fated Gallic slave» 
To find a tomb in briny waves. 

And sink to shades below. 



With speed they fly and tell their chief 
That France was ruined past relief. 

And Hawke triumphant rode. 
" Hawke !" cried the Fair ; " Pray who is he 
That dare usurp this power at sea, 

And thus insult a god ?" 

The Winds reply — " In distant lands 

There reigns a king whom Hawke commandfi^ 

He scorns all foreign force ; . 
And when his floating castles roll 
From sea to sea, from pole to pole. 
Great Hawke directs their course. 

" Or when his winged bullets fly 
To punish fraud or perfidy, 

Or scourge a guilty land ; 
Then gallant Hawke, serenely great, 
Though death and horror round him wait, 

Performs his dread command.*' 

Neptune, with wonder, heaid the story 
Of George's sway and Britain's glory, 

Which time shall ne'er subdue ; 
Boscawen's deeds, and Saunders' fame, 
Join'd with brave Wolfe's immortal name,— 

Then cried, " Can this be true? — 

" A king ! he sure must be a god. 
Who has such heroes at his nod 

To govern earth and sea : 
I yield my trident and my crown 
A tribute due to such renown,—* 

Great George shall rule for me«" 


[Written by Mr, Garridc. Coraposed by Dr, Boyoe,] 

Coeif E, cheer up, my lads ! 'tia to glory we steer. 
To add something more to this wonderful year i 
To honour we call you, not press you like slaves ; 
For who are so free as the sons of the waves? 
Heart of oak are our ships, 
Heart of oak are our men^ 
We always are ready r 
Steady, hoys, steady 1 
We*U fight and well conquer agam and again. 

We ne'er see our foes but we wish them to stay. 
They never see us but they wish us away ; 
If they run, why, we follow, or run them a&liora; 
For if they won^t fight us we cannot do more. 
Heart of oak, &c. 

They swear they^l Invade us, these teTrible foes! 
They frighten our women, our children, and beanx;'* 
But should their flat bottoms in darkness get oVr, 
Still Britons they'll find to receive them on shore. 
Heart of oak, &C4 

Britannia triumphant, her ships sweep me sea; 
Her standard is Justice — her watch- word, *■ Be free**^ 
Then cheer up, my lads I with one heart let us sin 
**Our soldiers, our sailors, our statesmen, and king 
Heart of oakj Scci 


[Written by P. Hoare, Esq. Old Air, arranged by Shidd.] 


Come, all ye jolly sailors bold, 

Whose hearts are cast in honour's mould, 

While English glory I unfold— 

Huzza to the Arethusa ! 
She's a frigate tight and brave 
As ever stemm'd the dashing wave : 
Her men are staunch 
To their fav*rite launch, 
And when the foe shall meet our fire. 
Sooner than strike, well all expire, 

On board of the Arethusa. 

'Twas with the Spring fleet she went out, 
The English Channel to cruise about. 
When four French sail in show so stout, 

Bore down on the Arethusa. 
The famed Belle Poule straight a-head did lie. 
The Arethusa seem'd to fly ; 
Not a sheet, or a tack. 
Or a brace did she slack ; 
Though the Frenchmen laughed and thought it stuff 
But they knew not the handful of men, how tough. 

On board of the Arethusa* 

On deck five hundred men did dance. 
The stoutest they could find in France ; 
We with two hundred did advance 
On board of the Arethusa. 

Our captain baiFd the Frenchman, " Ho !" 
The French man then cried out, " Hallo !" 

** Bear down^ d'ye see, 

To our adrniraVs lee/' 
" No, no," says the Frenchman! " that can*t be/ 
" Then I must lug you along with me," 
Says the aaucy Arethusa. 

The fight was off the Frenchman's lands 
We forced them back upon the strand ; 
For we fought till not a stick would stand 

Of the gallant Arethusa* 
And now we've driv'n the foe ashore^ 
Never to fight with Britons more, 

Let each fill a glass 

To his favourite lass ; 
A health to the captain and officers true, 
And all that belong to the jovial crew 
On board of the Arethusa. 


[Written by O'Keeffe. Composed by Dr, Arnold.] , 

What slionld sailors do on shore ? — 

Kiss the girls and toss the can I 
When tlie cannons cease to roar. 

Sweet the voice of smiling Nan. 
Bring me first a spacious bow]. 

Deeper than a plummet^s sound ^ 
Give me next a generous soul. 

That m Vo^kio kr^o^a tio bound. 


Flowing ever let it be, 

If the tide good liquor prove : 
Thus, my hearts, let's keep the sea, 

Sailing with the girl we love. 
What should sailors, &c. 

Nancy be my true love's name. 

And to compliment my dear, 
Bonny ship secure thy fame. 

Thou the darling title bear. 
To guard and bless my fav'rite realm. 

(Smiling, thus old Neptune spoke,) 
I place my William at the helm ; 

Royal Will is heart of oak. 
Whether moor'd or on a cruise, 

Sailor still, in peace or war : 
Poise the linstock, brim the booze, 

Sing, Long live the royal tar ! 
What should sailors, &c. 


[Written by Mrs. Linley. Composed by Mr. Linley.] 

Come, come, my jolly lads, the wind's abaft, 

Brisk gales our sails shall crowd ; 
Come, bustle, bustle, bustle, boys, haul the boat, 

The boatswain pipes aloud : 
The ship's unmoor'd ; all hands OL ^.jt^td ; 

The rising gale fills every sail, 
The ship's well mann'd and stored : 

Tlien sling the flowing bowl! 
Fund hopes arise, the girls we prize 

Shall bless each jovial sout ; 
The can, boys, bring, we'll drink and sio^p 

While foaming billowi roll# 
Then slings &c. 

I'hough to the Spanish coast we're bound to at 

AVe'U still outr rights maintam ; 
Then bear a hand, be steady, boys, soon we'll i 

Old England once again : 
From shore to shore, while eanEioos roar, 
Our tars shall show the haughty foe 

Britannia rules the main.^ 

Then sling the flowing bowl I 
Fond hopes arise, the girls we prize 

Shall bless each jovial soul ; 
The can, boys, bring, weUl drink and sing, 

While foaming billows roll. 
Then sling, &c> 


[Mi*sbael Am*:,] 

The topsails shiver in the wind, 

The ship she casts to sea j 
But yet my soul, my heart, my mind. 

Are, Mary, moor'd with thee- 
For though thy sailor's bound afar, 
Still love shall be his leading star. 


Should landmen flatter when weVe sail'd, 

O doubt their artful tales ; 
No gallant sailor ever faiPd, 

If Love breath*d constant gales : 
Thou art the compass of my soul 
Which steers my heart from pole to pole. 

Sirens in every port we meet, 
More fell than rocks or waves ; 

But such as grace the British fleet 
Are lovers and not slaves : 

No foes our courage shall subdue, 

Although we've left our hearts with you. 

These are our cares, but if you're kind 
We'll scorn the dashing main. 

The rocks, the billows and the wind. 
The power of France and Spain; 

Now England's glory rests with you ; 

Our sails are full — -sweet girls, adieu ; 


[Dt. Arnold.] 

The hardy sailor braves the ocean, 
Fearless of the roaring wind ; 

Yet his heart with soft emotion 
Throbs to leave his love behind. 

To dread of foreign foes a stranger, 
Though the youth may dauntless roani| 

Alarming fears paint ev'ry danger 
In a rival left at home. 
The hardy sailor, &c. 


[Written by M. P. Andrewi, Esq, Music by Dr. Arooli] ' 

Tmk wand 'ring sailor ploughs tbe main 
A competence in Ijfie to gain ; 
Undtiunted braves the stormy seas 
To find, at last, content and ease : 
In hopes, when toil and danger's o'er. 
To anchor on his native shore- 
When winds blow hard, and mountains roll. 
And thunders shake from pole to pole. 
Though dreadful waves surrounding foam» 
Still flatt*ring fancy wafts him home j 
In hopes, &c. 

When round the bowl the jovial crew 
The early scenes of youth renew^ 
Though each his fav'rjte fair will boast, 
This is the universal toast : 
** May wCj when toil and danger's o*er, 
Cast anchor on our native shore.** 


[The Rt. Hon. Eichonl Brioelef SI^ridEin. Mnsta bj L!nlej-1 

When 'tis night, and the mid-watch is come. 
And chilli tig mists hang o'er the darkened m!ua»| 

Then sailors think of their far distant home. 
And of those friends they ne^er may see agaia. 


But when the fight's b^un, 

Each serving at his gun, 
Should any thought of them come o'er our mind, 
We think, should but the day be won, 

How 'twill cheer 

Their hearts to hear 
That their old companion he was one ! 

Or, my lad, if you a mistress kind 

Have left on shore, some pretty girl and true, 
Who many a night doth listen to the wind. 

And sighs to think how it may fare with you,— 

O when the fight's begun. 

Each serving at his gun. 
Should any thought of her come o'er your mind, 
Think, only should the day be won, 

How 'twill cheer 

Her heart to hear 
That her own true sailor he was one ! 


[R. Bradley (1700).] 

Blow, Boreas, blow, and let thy surly winds 

Make the billows foam and roar. 
Thou canst no terror breed in valiant minds. 

But, spite of thee, we'll live and find a shore ! 
Then cheer, my hearts, and be not awed. 

But keep the gun-room clear ; 
Tho' hell's broke loose, and the devils roar abroad. 

Whilst we have sea-room here, boys, never fear !- 


Hey I how she tosses up, how far S 

The mountmg topmast touched a star ! 

The meteors blazed as through die douds we catiie. 

And, salamander-iLke, we live in flame 1 — 

But now we sink \ now, now we go 

Down to the deepest shades below. 

Alas ! where are we now ? who, wlio can tell t 

Sure *tia the lowest room of hell I 

Or where the sea-gods dwell! — 

Wjtli them well live — with them well live and reigu^ 

With them we*U laugh and sing and drink amain* 

But see, we mount ! see, see we rise again I 

Though flashes of lightning, and tempests of rain. 
Do fiercely contend who shall conquer the main ; 
Though the captain does swear, instead of a pray V, 
And the sea is all fired by the demons of the air 
We'll drink, and defy 
The mad spirits that fly 
From the deep to the sky. 

And aing while the thunder does bellow ; 
For Fate will still have a kind home for the brave. 
And ne^er make his grave of a salt-water wave. 

To drown, — ^no, never to drown a good fellow* 



[Musk bv Cakott.] 

Ye gentlemen of England, 
Who live at home at ease. 

Ah! little do you think upon 
The dangers of the seas ! 


While pleasure does surround youy 
Our cares you cannot know, 

Or the pain, on the main, 

When the stormy winds do blow. 

The sailor must have courage, 

No danger he must shun ; 
In every kind of weather 

His course he still must run : 
Now mounted on the topmast,— 

How dreadful *tis below I 
Then we ride, as the tide. 

When the stormy winds do blow* 

Proud France, again insulting, 

Does British valour dare ; 
Our flag we must support now. 

And thunder in the war : 
To humble them, come on, lads. 

And lay their lilies low ; 
Clear the way for the fray, 

Though the stormy winds do blow« 

Old Neptune shakes his trident. 

The billows mount on high ; 
Their shells the Tritons sounding, 

The flashing lightnings fly. 
The watery grave now opens. 

All dreadful from below, 
When the waves move the seas. 

And the stormy winds do blovv« 


But when the danger's over, 

And safe we come on shores 
The horrors of the tempest, 

We think of them no more. 
The flowing bowl invites iib* 

And joyfully we go; 
All the day drink away. 

Though the stormy winds do htow^ 


How little do the landsmen know 

Of what w# sailors feel. 
When waves do mount, and winds do blow f 

But we have hearts of steel ; 
No danger can affright us ; 

No enemy shall flout ; 
We'll make the Monsieurs right us. 

So toss the con about* 

Stick stout to orders, messmates ; 

Well plunderi bum, and sink I 
Thenp France, have at your first-ratesj 

For Britons never shrink t 
We*li rummage all we fancy j 

We'll bring them in by scores j 
And Moll, and Kate, and Nancy, 

Shall roll in Louis^d'ors* 


While here at Deal we're lying, 

Witli our noble Commodore, 
We'll spend our wages freely, boys, 

And then to sea for more. 
In peace we'll drink and sing, boys. 

In war we'll never fly ! 
Here's a health to George our King, boys, 

And the royal family. 


Now away, my J^rave boys, hoist the flag, beat the drum, 

Let the streamers wave over the main ; 
When Old England she calls us, we merrily come, 

She can't call a sailor in vain. 
Already we seem an armada to chase, 

Already behold the galleons ; 
Undaunted, unconquer'd, look death in the face, 

And return with a load of doubloons. 

Then farewell for a time, lovely sweethearts, dear wives ; 

Nancy, fear not the fate of true blue ; 
Though we leave you and merrily venture our lives, 

To our girls we will ever be true. 
With spirit we go an armada to chase. 

With rapture behold the galleons ; 
Undaunted, unconquer'd, look death in the face, 

And return with a load of doubloons. 


[Dr. Green.] 

Lite is chequered — toil and pleasune 
Kill up all the various measure. 
See the crew, in flannel jerkin a, 
Brmkitig, toping flip by lirkins : 

And as they raise the tip 

To their happy lip 
On deck is heard no other sound 

But prithee, Jack, pritheej Dicl?, 

Pntheci Sanij prithee, Tom, 

Let the can go round. 

Then, bark to the boatswain*^ wbiatle f 


Bustle, bustle, bustle, my boy ; 
Let us atir, let us toil, 
But let us drink all the while, 
For labour's the price of our joy- 
Life IS chequer'd — toil and pleasure 
Fill up all the various measure. 
Bark! tlie crew in sun-burnt faceSi 
CbaDting black-eyed Susan^s graces I 
Afid as they raise their i^ates 
Through their rusty throats 
On the deck is lieard no other sound 
But prithee. Jack, prithee, Dick, 
Prithee, Sam, prithee, Tom, 
Let the can go round. 
Then hark, &Ci 


Jiife is chequer'd ! — toil and pleasure 
Fill up all the various measure, 
f lark ! the crew, their cares discarding. 
With hustle-cap, or with chuck-farthing ; 
Still in a merry pin, 
Let 'em lose or win, 
On the deck is heard no other sound 
But prithee. Jack, prithee, Dick, 
Prithee, Sam, prithee, Tom, 
Let the can go round. 
Then hark, &c. 


[By J. Cobb, Esq. Music by Storace.] 

From aloft the sailor looks around. 
And hears below the murm'ring billows sound : 
Far off from home he counts another day. 
Wide o'er the seas the vessel bears away ! 

His courage wants no whet, 

But he springs the sail to set. 
With heart as fresh as rising breeze of May : 

And caring nought. 

He turns his thought 
To his lovely Sue or his charming Bet. 

Now to heav'n the lofty topmast soars, 

The stormy blast like dreadful thunder roant 

^ow ocean's deepest giilfs appear below^ 

The curling surges foam, and down we gol 

When skies and seas are met, 

They his courage serve to whet ; 

With a heart as fresh as rising breeze of MaV| 

And dreading nought^ &c. 


[Mickaid Ame.] 

Loose every^ sail to the breeze^ 
The course of my vessel improve 

I've done with the toils of the seas, — 
Ye sailors, I'm bound to my love. 

Since Emma is true as slie*s fair. 

My griefs I fling all to the wind ; 
*Tis a pleasing return to my care, 

My mistress is constant and kiud. 

My sails are all filled to my dear ; 

What tropic-bird swifter can move ? 
Who cruel shall hold bis career 

That returns to the nest of his love ? 

Hoist every sail to the breeze; 

Come, sKipmateSf and join in the song ^ 
Iiet's drink while the ship cuts the seas, 

To the gale that may drive her aloiig^ 


[Words Anonymous. Music by Dibdin.] 

Come, bustle, bustle, drink about, 

And let us merry be , 
Our can is full, we'll see it out, 

And then all hands to sea. 
And a sailing we will go. 
Fine Miss, at dancing-school, is taught 

The minuet to tread; 
But we go better when we've brought 

The fore-tack to cat-head. 
And a sailing, &c. 
The jockey calls, " To horse, to horne!" 

And swiftly rides the race ; 
But swifter far we shape our course 

"When we are giving chase. 
And a sailing, &c. 
When horns and shouts the forest rena. 

His pack the huntsman cheers ; 
As loud we holla when we send 

A broadside to Monsieur. 
And a sailing, &c. 
The What*s-their-names at uproars 8quu]i« 

With music fine and soft ; 
But better sounds our boatswain's call, 

"All hands, all hands aloft!" 
And a sailing, &c. 
With gold and silver streamers fine 

The ladies rigging show ; 
But English ships more grander shine. 

When prizes home we tow. 

And a sailing, &c. -&. 

Wlmt'agot at sea we spend on slirirf^, 
Witb sweethearts or with wives ; 

And Uieti, my boys, hoist ^ail for more:— 
Thus pasises sailors' Uvea. 
And a sailing, &:c. 


[Old Balkd-l 

Co WE, let's drink a health to George oiur king 

And his brave coinnianders ; 
Another glass let us toss oft 

To the valiant Salamanderi ; 
Who fought so bravely for their king^ sir. 
For their country, and their crown. 
To put the Mounsieurs^ courage down. 
By the brave Salamander. 

When we cruised on the raging matn^ 
Our guns they roar'd like thunder; 
Along the coast of France and Spain, 
Brave boys, we search for plunder I 
We'll make the French and Spaniards quakei 
Our English merchant-ships retake, 
For the glory of Old England's sake, 
By the valiant Salamander. 

One night we fought, in a mistake^ 

With a Bristol privateer, sir ; 
With one broadside we made them sliake. 

And laid them on the careeni sir^ 


They swore no mortals we could be, 
But devils, sure, that liv'd at sea ; 
But to their joy they soon did see 
'Twas the valiant Salamander. 

Who can pretend for to withstand 

A creature bred/ by fire? 
When man can live by sea or land, 

What fool would e*er come nigh her ? 
With hand-grenades and musket-shot, 
Their canndn ball, although red hot, 
We neither fear, nor value not, 
On board the Salamander. 

And when that we do come on shore, 

We'll all fill up our glasses ; 
We'll drink and make the taverns roar. 

Along with our English lasses : 
We'll dance and sing and roam about, 
And spend our money, and then go out 
Another cruise, and search about 
For more French and Spanish plunder. 



How })appy are we now the wind is abaft. 

And the boatswain he pipes, Haul both our sheets aft ! 

Steady says the master, it blows a fresh gale ; 

We'll soon reach our port, boys, if the wind doth not fail. 

Then drink about, Tom ; although the ship roll. 

We'll save our rich liquor by slinging the bowl. 



[6f the CompoKf of Admiral fieixbow.] 


When in war on the ocean we meet the proud foe. 

Though with ardour for conquest out bosoms may gW 
Let us see on their vessels Old England's flag wave. 
They shall find British sailors but conquer to save. 


See, thdr tri- coloured ensigns we view ft-om afar. 
With three cheers they are welcomed by each British oi 
W^hilst the genius of Britain still bids us advance, 
And our guns hurl in thunder defiance to France- 


But mark our last broadside j — ^she sinks- — down she gi 
Quickly man all your boats, boys — they no longer 
To snatch a brave fellow from a wat'ry grave 
As worthy of Britons who conquer to save. 



How blest are we seamen f how jovial and gay 1 
Together we fight, or together we play ; 
Our hearts are true sterlings — their worth shall bej 
Well fight for our country, and die for our Qtiaenj 
For plenty, for freedom, well range the wide Hoo 
And for England, Old England, well shed our lasd 


By land other nations their forces may boast ; 
*Tis we, only we, can protect Britain's coast! 
Our strong floating castles, our loud English guns. 
Shall convince the proud Spaniards we're Neptune's true 
For plenty, &c. 

Our Admirals lead, and our flag is let fly ; 
Our cross like a comet appears in the sky. 
Portending destruction ! our sea-lion roars ; 
And his voice, like loud thunder, breaks full on the shores. 
For plenty, &c. 

Come, bustle, my boys ! let us form the good line ; 
Come, cheer up, old England,-^the day shall be thine ! 
Huzza for our country ! huzza for our king ! 
We'll raise its renown, and ennoble his reign. 
For plenty, &c. 



Your Molly has never been false, she declares, 
Since last time we parted at Wapping Old Stairs ; 
When I swore that I still would continue the same. 
And gave you the 'bacco-box mark'd with my name. 
When I pass'd a whole fortnight between decks with yoUp 
Did I e'er give a kiss, Tom, to one of your crew ? 
To be useful and kind to my Thomas I stay'd. 
For his trousers I wash'd, and his grog too I made. 

Though you promis'd last Sunday to walk in the Mall 
With Susan from Deptford, and likewise with Sall« 

Tn silence I stooil, your imkinrlness to hem. 
And only tipbr aided my Tom with a tear- 
Why should Sal, or should Susan, than me be more priieti 
For the heart that is true, Tom, should ne*er be despised 
Then be constant and kind, nor your Molly forsake; 
Still your trousers I'll wasbj and your grog too I*ll mate 



[Written by Jaa* Evans^ Eaq. Composed by Ajiroa Trf*} 

The records o£ our fathers* deedt 

Are blazon'd forth in song; 
Let Fame^s loud trunipet sound the tbemei 

While we the note prolong. 
The staunch supporters of our hle^ 

Whose bitcks the foe saw never. 
Still onward ran, and loudly cried, 

** Old England's flag for ever !** 

If vengeance call'd them to the field 

They^d well defend their right. 
And gleaming swords a mil Hon itrongi 

Were ready for the fight. 
Their banner fluiterM o*er the van, 

From which they ne'er would severe 
But pressing round itj shouted stilly 

** Old England's flag for ever!" 

Then, Britons, emulate your sirea, 

Support their okl renown; 
Raise high your flag, and woe betrde 

The hands that plrtk it down ! 




Still over all it proudly floats, 
And shall it fall ? Oh never ! 

Unto the death we'll rally round 
"Old England's flag for ever!" 


[Written and composed by Joshua Done.] 

With ardent pride Britannia's sons attend 

The gallant ship on airy structure raised, 
Ere to the boundless deep she could descend : 

With awe and pleasure thousands stand amazed. 
Behold the grand triumphant skill of man, 

Whose genius dared the mighty pile to form, 
That o'er the ocean vast shall lead the van, 

And long defy the battle and the storm ! 

In all the gorgeous pomp of naval pride, 

Aloft she stands in solemn stillness bound ; 
And, as she seems to watch the swelling tide. 

Her stately keel the waters deep surround,— 
Then gently woo her to their soft embrace ; 

While breathless admiration fills the throng, 
Bliss in each heart, and joy in every face. 

The shouts foretell that hang on every tongue. 

At length the well-known warning signals pass, 

The pond'rous hammer stroke is heard around ; 
She moves ! she glides ! a pond'rous living mass, 

Into the bosom of the wave profound. 
Huzza ! huzza ! the loud-toned cannons roar ; 
Huzza ! huzza ! resounds from shore to shore : 
On her broad decks a thousand seamen stand, 
The prop and glory of thdr iiatiLve\asu\\ 


[CorapoBcd by Shidd.] 

Though hum canes rattle, though tempests appear^ 

We sailors have pleasure in store. 
For the prMe of our hearts is to hand, reef and steer. 

Weigh anchor, and hear off from sliore» 
If contention of winds raise the waves mountains high, 

0*er OUT quarters a heavy sea break. 
Or the reef- tackle fall, we imdauntedly ply, 

Nor from danger e'er lubher-like sneaky 
But the storm gone astern, and the mainniast ereed 

Then with messmates we cheerily sing. 
May our navy for ever Old England protect, 

Our lawsi constitutioDj and kingl 

Wliy, lately we spied 'fore the jib right a bead 

A three-decker, trim, gallant, and gay, 
And thwart of her poop a French ensign was spread 

That the tri -coloured stripes did display- 
Then by skill of our helmsman the weather-gage gott 

And soon as alongside her we lay, 
We so pepper'd Her hull, and her masts away shot, 

That to strike she was forced to obey- 
So we took her in tow, and to Plymouth direct, ^ 

Where our crew did all manfully sing, 
Thus our navy shall ever Old England protect. 

Our laws, constitutioiii and king t 


[Composed by C. Carter.] 

Stand to your guns, my hearts of oak, 
Let not a word on board be spoke ; 
Victory is ours, *mid fire and smoke ; 

Be silent and be ready. 
Ram home the guns and spunge them well { 
Let us be sure the balls will tell ; 
The cannon's roar shall sound their knell ; 

Be steady, boys, be steady. 
Not yet, nor yet, nor yet ; 
Reserve your fire, I do desire. 

Now the elements do rattle ; 

The gods amazed behold the battle. 

A broadside, my boys ! 
See the blood in purple tide 
Trickle down her batter'd side. 
Wing'd with fate the bullets fly, 
Conquer, boys, or bravely die. 

She sinks, she sinks, she sinks, huzza! 
To the bottom down she goes ! 


[Written and composed by Dr. Arae.] 

When Britain on her sea-girt shore 
Her ancient Druids erst addressed, 

What aid, she cried, shall I implore ? 
What best defence, by numbers pressed ? 


The hostile nations round thee ri»e, 

The njystic oraclea replied, — 
And view thine isle with envious eyei ; 

Their threats defy, thetr rage deride; 
Nor fear invasion from those adverse Gat Is ; 
Britain's best bulwarks are her wooden walis# 

Thine oaks, descending to the fnaio. 

With floating forts shall stem the tide. 
Asserting Britain's liquid reign 

Wherever her thundering: navy rides. 
Nor less to peaceful arts inclined, 

Where commerce opens all lier stores p 
In social bands shall league mankind. 

And join the sea-divided shores. 
Spread thy white sails where naval glory calls 
Britain's best bulwarks are her wooden walld, 

Hail, happy islel What though thy vales 

No vine-impurpled tribute yield, 
Nor fann'd with odour-breathing galea. 

Nor crops spontaneous glad tlie fieldj*^ 
Yet liberty re^vards the toil 

Of industry to labour prone, 
Who jocund ploughs the grateful soil, 

And reaps the harvest she has sown i 
While other realms tyrannic sway enthrals ; 
Britain's best bulwarks are her wooden walls 



Six "Songs of the Mid Watch," written by Captain Willes 
Johnson, R.N. Composed by Klitz. 


[The Mnsic of this and the following fiye Songs may be had of 
Messrs. Purday, 45, High Holbom.l 

The fight was o'er, and strew'd around 

Lay many a seaman brave, 
And those who nobly died had found 

A deep unfathom'd grave. 
One ling*ring lived, who vainly strove 

The manly tear to hide ; ^ 

A pray'r he breath'd to Heav*n above. 

For her his promised bride. 

*Twas poor Tom Ratline wounded lay, 

His life-blood ebbing fast; 
On her he lov'd, far, far away, 

He felt he'd looked his last. 
** Shipmate," said he, " it is not dread 

Of death that fills my eye ; 
'Tis Mem*ry*s dream of joys, though fled, 

Which makes it sad to die. 

** If our good prize should pay us well, 

Which Fve no doubt she'll do, 
Take all my share, and, hark ye ! tell 

The rhino out to Sue. 
Dry her sweet eyes — salt tears they'll pour 

At poor Tom's fate," he cried ; 
•* Say my last thought" — he could no more, 

But whisp'ring " Susan !" died. 



Bright Moon I fair Moon ! the inariner*s friend. 

When wintry Btorms prevail. 
Deign from tliy tlirone of state to bend, 

And list a lover's tale. 
She I adore is far away. 

And I may roam the main 
For years ere comes the happy day 

When we can meet again. 
Then, beauteous Moon, fair Queen of Night! 

Still more thy friendshTp prove ; 
Reflect, as in a mirror b rights 

The face of her I love. 

1 *d forfeit all thy cheerful light 

When danger's lurking round. 
The dreoi lee -shore, and craggy heigltt, 

The boldest hearts astound ^ 
I 'd brave the wreck, nor seek thy aid, 

If sometimes to my view 
Thoud'st bring the form of that sweet maid. 

So tender and so true* 
Then beauteous Moon, fair Queen of Night ? 

My fondest wish approve, 
And show me in thy mirror bright 

The face of her 1 love- 



The landsmen tell you those who roam 

0*er Ocean's boundless tide, 
On ev'ry shore can find a home, 

In ev*ry port a bride. 
Heed not, sweet maid, their idle prate, 

They ne'er such feelings knew 
As warm the heart of thy sailor-mate, 

Which beats alone for you. 

What though, when storms our bark assail. 

The needle trembling veers. 
When night adds horror to the gale, 

And not a star appears?— 
True to the pole as I to thee, 

It faithful still will prove, 
An emblem, dear, of constancy. 

And of a sailor*s love. 

Then turn from what the landsmen say. 

Who would thy faith beguile ; 
They seize the time when we're away 

To practise every wile ; 
O'er beauty bright our looks may rove, 

We ne'er its influence shun, 
But though the eye has many a love. 

The heart knows only one. 



YoBR poets may sing of the pleasures of borne, 

Of ihe land and a bright sunny sky ; 
|.Give roe the rough ocean with bosom of foam, 

And a bark, when in chase, that will fly : 
Though aloft to the clouds on the billows we i 

And then sink to the valley below, 
We danger defy, 'mtd the hurricanes roar, 

And reck not, how hard it may blow I 
Then, hurrah for the sea, boys I hurrah for the »ea I 
The mariner's life is the life for me* 

The dear ooes we love, when our pockets are Haed^ 

Help to spend all our rhioo on shore, 
And when empty, ** Up anchor !" weVe sure soon to fin 

A prize that will furnish them more. 
I All friends we avoid as we roam o^er the wave; 
The sail which we welcome *s a foe ; 
And should Death heave us to, there 's a ready-made | 

And down to the bottom we go 1 
^ Then hurrah for the sea, boys ! hurrah for the sea 1 
A mariner's life is the life for me* 



Our sea-b«rne chimes eight bells have toU'd 

Far o'er the wat'ry waste ; 
To distant ships their sound has roll'd; 
The canvass drips with night-dew cold; 

The mid-hour watch is placed. 
Look out! look out, my trusty crew ! 

Strain every anKious eye ; 
Though spray and mist obscure the view^ 

We know the land is nigh ! 

And spare ye not the plungmg lead, 

As carefully we steer ; 
What star shides o'er the lee cathead, 
Which now gleams forth with lustre red. 

Now seems to disappear ? 
It is no star ! I see it now ! 

It is the lighthouse beam, 
Which from yon tall cliflF's beetling brow 

Sheds forth its changeful gleam. 

A sailor's thanks to those who tend 

Its true though fitful light, 
Who, like our guardian angels, lend 
Their ceaseless vigils to befriend 

The wand'ring vessel's flight. 
No strangers, now, the deep we roam ! 

Shake out, shake out the reefs : make sail • 
That lighthouse is the light of home, 

And hope breathes in the gale. 


As still we coast the rugged sti 

The lighthouse sheds its raj ; 
But there's a love which does not sleep. 
And hearts which watch as constant keep> 

When we are far away. 
What transport in each breast will glow. 

When, with to-morrow's sun. 
Our well-known signal-flags shall show 

The destin'd port weVe won. 


■Oirii ship had struck soundings, and blithe were our i 

As up cliiinnel for England we joyfully bore; 
Though shattetM her hull, we were proud of her scars, 

And the riddled blue flag in the battle she woren. 
Each heart was elate ; e'en the wounded forgot 

All their pangs, as the land of their home they drew ne 
And the late sunken eye lighted up as the spot 

(Tho' dbtant) was seen which we*d left with a tear* 

Jut where is the gallant, the brave, and the gay. 

Whom we hoped to have saved from the fate of the slafnf*' 
Alas ! he survived but to watch the last ray 

Of the sun's setting beams on the queen of the nifLin I 
His war-hro!<en frame had with hope been sustain'd 

That the land he had bled for again he mfght see ; 
"Farewell, my lov'd country!'' he faintly exclaina'd. 

Then bow'd with submission to Heaven's decree* 


No ashes were strew'd o'er his watery grave ! 

We sounded no knell save the cannon's deep hoom ; 
But his bier was bedew'd with the tears of the brave, 

Ere we launched him below to his dark ocean tomb. 
Rest, rest, gallant spirit ! though lonely thy bed, 

Thy virtues in fondest remembrance we'll guard; 
And when the sea's summoned to render its dead. 

Aloft thou wilt rise to receive thy reward. 


[Written by Andrew Cherry. — Old Air.] 

Loud roar'd the dreadful thunder. 

The rain a deluge show'rs ; 
The clouds were rent asunder 
By lightning's vivid powers ! 
The night both drear and dark ; 
Our poor deluded bark ! 
Till next day. 
There she lay, 
In the Bay of Biscay O ! 

Now, dash'd upon the billow, 
Her op'ning timbers creak : 
£ach fears a wat'ry pillow ! 

None stop the dreadful leak ! — 
To cling to slipp'ry shrouds 
Each breathless seaman tries, 
As she lay. 
Till the day, 
in the Bay of Biscay O ! 

Kt length the wish*d-for morrjv 
Broke tbrough the hazy aky i 
AbiBorb'd in silent sorroWj 

Eacb heav*d a bitter sigh ! — 
The dismal wreck to view 
Struck horror to the crew, 
As sbe lay, 
On til at day. 
In the Bay of Biscay O f 

Her yielding timbers sever j 

Her pitchy seams are rent I 
When Heaven (all bounteous ever) 

Its boundless mercy sent I 
A sail in sight appears ! 

We hail her with three cheen I 
Now we sail 
With the gale 
From the Bay of BUcay O I 


[Written by Mwk LotiBdale, Mudc by W, Re«?e,] 

"Blood! what a time for a seaman to sctilk 
Under gingerbread hatches ashore ! 

What a d — d bad job that this batter*d old hulk 
Can't be rigg'd out to sea once more ! 


The puppies, as they pass. 
Cocking up a squinting-glass, 
Thus run down the Old Commodore ^-^ 
"That's the rum Old Commodore, 
The tough Old Commodore, 
The fighting Old Commodore, he ! 
But the hullets and the gout 
Have so knocked his hull about, 
That he*ll never more be fit for sea." 

Here I am in distress, like a ship water-logg*d, 

Not a tow-rope at hand, nor an oar ; 
I am left by my crew, and, may I be flogg'd, 
But the doctor 's a son of a wh— e ! 
While I'm swallowing his slops. 
How nimble are his chops 
To run down the Old Commodore:*^- 
" Can't say, Commodore ; 
Must n't flatter. Commodore ; 
Though a brave Old Commodore you be, 
Yet the bullets and the gout 
Have so knock'd your hull about. 
That you'll never more be fit for sea." 

What, no more be afloat ! blood and fliry ! they lie 

I'm a seaman, and only threescore ; 
And if, as they tell me, I'm likely to die, 
Oh, pray let me not die ashore ! 
As for death, 'tis all a joke! 
Sailors live on fire and smoke, — 


At least so says an Old Commodore^ 

The rum Old Commodorei 
The tough Old Cominodorei 

The fighting Old Commodore, he t 
Whom the devil ^ nor the gout. 
Nor the French lads to boot. 

Shall kill, till they grapple him at sea ! 

Shall kill, till they grapple him at sea I 


[Written by R. Oldfield, Composed by T, Willi(yiis.J 

Oua country is the land we love ; 

Nought with it can compare^ 
For statesmen wise and heroes brave. 
For commerce and the fair ; 

*Tis Britain's pride, 

No land beside 
Such influence can maintain ; 

Go where you will, 

Our country still, — 
You*lI ne'er find its like again ! 

For ages past our admirals bra¥e 

Pre-eminent have stood j 
And, spite of all the world, have held 
The mast'ry of the flood. 
Howe, Duncan, Hood, 
And Col ling wood. 
Long triumphed o^er the mam ; 
White Nelson's name. 
So dear to Fame I — 
We may never see their like agalat 




Brave heroes in the field we've had ; 

Remember Marlboro's name, 
With Abercrombie, Wolfe, and Moorei 
Who died to live in Fame ! 

Anglesea still, 

With gallant Hill 
And Wellington, remain ; 

Each to the end. 

His country's friend ; — 
We may never see their like again I 

[Concluding verse by T. Dibdin.] 
Her people, soldiers, tars, adore 

The Queen ; and for her crown, 
Should danger threaten, as of yore, 
Their lives would all lay down ! 
She's Albion's boast, 
Whose clifF-rob'd coast 
Her sceptre will maintain ; ' 
While Truth shall own 
On Britain's throne 
We ne'er may see her like again. 


A SHIP ! a ship ! a gallant ship ! the foe is on the main 
A ship! a gallant ship, to bear our thunder forth again 1 
Shall the stripes, and stars, or tricolor, in triumph sweep 

the sea, 
While the flag of Britain waves aloft, the fearless and the 


•f obly she comeB in warlike trim, careermg 


The hope, the home^ the citadel of Britain and the 

brave ; 
Well may tbe sailar's heart exult, as he ga^es on the 

Ed muTmur forth his country *a name, and think upon 

her might ! 

low proudly does the footstep rbe upon the welcome 

As if at every pace we trod upon a foeman's neck ! 
|urrab! hurrah S let mast and yard before the tempest 

bend ; 
be sceptre of the deep from us nor atotm nor foe shall 

ir country's standard floats above, the oce&a breeze td 

And her thunder sleeps in aw fill quiet beneath our 
trampling feet; 
lit let a fbeman fling abroad the banner of his wrath, 
[ a moment will awake its roar to sweep him from our ' 

(To foreign tyrant ever through our wooden bulwj 

broke ; 

No British bosom ever quail'd within our walls of oak ^ 
Let banded foes and angry seas around our ship can* 

spire, — 
To tread our gloriou^i decks would turn the coward^ 

blood to fire j 


Out every reef! let plank, and spar, and rigging crac 

Let a broad belt of snow surround our pathway througl 

the main ; 
High to tlie straining topmast nail the British ensign fast — 
We may go down, but never yield, and it shall sink the 


Our country's cause is in our arms, but her love is in our 

And by the deep that underneath our bounding vessel 

rolls — 
By heaven above, and earth below-<^to the death for her 

we'll fight : 
Our Queen and country Is the word I and God defend the 


[Written by James Thomsom. Composed by Dr. Arne.] 

When Britain first, at Heaven's command. 

Arose from out the azure main. 
This was the charter of the land. 

And guardian angels sung this strain : — 
Rule, Britannia 1 Britannia rule the waves ! 
Britons never shall be slaves ! 

The nations not so bless'd as thee 
Must in their turn to tyrants fall; 

While thou shalt flourish great and free. 
The dread and envy of them all. 

Rule, Britannia &c. 

Still more nisjeBtic sHalt thou rise, 

More dread fill from each foreign stroke f 

Aa the loud blast that tears the skieB 
Serves but to root thy natiye oak. 

Rule, Britannia, Sec. 

Thee haughty tyrants ne^er shall tame ; 

All their attempts to bend thee down 
Will but arouse thy generous flamcj 

And work their woe and thy renown, 
Bulef Britannia, Sec, 

To thee belongs the rural reign ; 

Thy cities shall with commerce shine ; 
All thine shall be the subject main, 

And every shore it circles thine* 
Ituley Britannia, &c. 

The Muses, still with freedom foundt 
Shall to thy happy coast repair ; 

Bless'd islet with matchless beauty crown *d« 
And manly hearts to guard the fairi 

Rule Britannia I Britannia rule the waYe« f 



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A flue of five cents a day is incnrred 
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Pleas© return promptly. 


II 21- 


g^l PlBHiuHy